


Many Bells Down

by klmeri



Series: Riverside [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klmeri/pseuds/klmeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Along Comes a Stranger. Dating Bones and Spock is wonderful, better than Jim imagined. Then Bones' mother arrives, Spock receives the offer of a lifetime outside of Riverside, and Jim has to make a series of choices that could completely change his - and ultimately Riverside's - future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from E.E. Cummings poem which begins:
> 
> _anyone lived in a pretty how town  
>  (with up so floating many bells down)_
> 
> This Riverside is a pretty how town, in my opinion.

_Where are you running to, James?_

That voice... he hasn't heard that voice in months, not since the nightmare stopped.

The diner. Trelane—pinning his body down, telling him this is the way it was supposed to end, as the fire spreads and takes everything, him included. He hates waking up from that too-real dream, even knowing he is safe because Bones has a hand on his back, kneading muscles locked in fright, and Spock has gotten up to turn on the lights so that he can see there is no fire.

The man to whom the voice belongs is gone. Yet here Jim is out on the open road, in the dark long before dawn, with nothing but stretches of countryside before him as he speeds down an abandoned highway. He is running, he knows this. Even with the desolate landscape, Jim is being followed by a nameless thing.

Is it his own fear?

Is it Eleanor's words, her angry tirade _YOU. I don't know who you think you are, James Kirk, but I'll certainly tell you who you aren't—and that's the right person for my boy! You're no good for Leonard!_

The Harley is a sweet solace under him, all sleek power and the promise of escape. If only he can get far enough, go fast enough...

Jim Kirk pulls on the throttle, whole outside but wrecked within; his shadow is cast long and low across the road, racing him, it seems, into the night.

~~~

_Two weeks earlier..._

 

Jim falls in love with Joanna at first sight. The feeling isn't mutual right away, of course; the little girl only has eyes for her father, which Jim begrudges neither Bones nor Joanna. She doesn't notice Jim overly much until he nicknames her Princess and sneaks her out to a farm neighboring the Kirk's land to look at baby ducks. She hides one duckling in her skirt pocket to gift to Uncle Spock (why Spock? Jim muses) but Jim gently explains that the baby duck would be lonely without its brothers and sisters and mama. She concedes his point and lets it toddle back to its family.

After this adventure, Jim's existence gains more importance to Joanna. She begins to take note of things he can do for her. She wants a ride on his motorcycle (at her somewhat excited demand, Leonard scoops up his daughter like a protective papa bear and attempts to eradicate Jim with his laser glare) so Jim has to whisper a promise in her ear that they can try it much, much later when her daddy isn't so grumpy. When Jim is nearby, she asks to ride his shoulders, a service which Jim is happy to provide. (Spock is too tall for comfortable shoulder-riding in Joanna's opinion, and her father is too short. Jim is _just right_. She says this like she's quoting a fairy tale.)

Joanna approves of Jim's wide grins, love of ice cream, and his long arms which can swing her in circles around and around the lawn for hours without tiring—or until they are both too dizzy to stand upright. To Kirk's chargrin, however, Joanna thinks he is as pretty as her favorite blue-eyed china doll (the one Granny gave her last Christmas, she says) and so, because he is pretty and he is male, she is going to marry him one day. She's Princess Joanna and he will be her Prince Jim.

At that proclamation, Bones chokes on his own spit, Spock makes a bee line for the privacy of a bathroom (to regain his cracking composure, no doubt) and Jim lowers his head under the stern stare of Mrs. Eleanor McCoy.

Eleanor is another matter entirely. Upon their introduction, she looks congenial, pleasant even, until the moment her eyes—Bones' changeable, soulful eyes—fix upon someone other than her kin. She strips flesh from bone with one look, leaving no place for secrets to hide. Jim would not say her expression is hostile, yet the word disapproving would be too mild of a description. It's Leonard the woman pulls into her arms immediately as she and Joanna descend the Greyhound bus, whispering something to him that softens the lines of her face. Jim and Spock—they are scrutinized and kept at a formal distance, though Spock less so. Maybe Jim's imagination is over-active, but he is certain that Eleanor McCoy—mother of Leonard Horatio McCoy and grandmother of Joanna McCoy—automatically places Spock in a class far above Jim. Spock has the potential to be worthy, is what he reads in the firmness of her mouth; whereas Jim might be lucky to receive a word from her edgewise. How ironic, considering when Eleanor arrives in Riverside, she knows nothing of James Kirk at all.

Days later and a lack of warmth is still prevalent in her greeting to the lawyer (does she blame Spock for the catastrophe of Leonard's divorce trial? Jim wonders) and to the mechanic (in his case, she is obviously making a pre-emptive strike). Yet Bones has said nothing of it, and Jim hasn't the heart to pull the man's attention away from the daughter he thought he would never see again.

Jim thinks these thoughts, as he has so many times over the last two weeks, while he parks his motorcycle in the downtown area of Riverside and unhooks his helmet. Becoming Prince Jim to Joanna has not won him the affection of Bones' mother. And now, every time he is the vicinity of the tenacious woman, he regresses into an awkward, bumbling teenager, full of uncertainty and a need to have her approval. Amanda Grayson, Jim decides, wasn't a tenth as scary as Eleanor McCoy.

Jim doesn't dislike Eleanor. In fact, he sees where Bones gets his personality—from the quick temper and stubbornness, the unbreakable family loyalty, and even the laugh (Bones' laugh, his mother's laugh, different pitches of the same joy)—and that endears the small woman to Jim. He imagines her hand upon his arm would have an identical comforting weight as Bones' hand. But he can't seem to persuade her to accept him in the smallest of ways.

Bones doesn't understand, finds Jim's whimpers of _God no, do we have to eat dinner with her again?_ rather funny. Jim knows that he should be glad Leonard seems secure in his feelings for Jim, that the man isn't swayed by his mother's hints that he can do so much better than Riverside (and essentially Jim). Yet he can't help but want assurance, real verbal assurance. And Spock is of little help in a way that has Jim wondering what might be going on in Spock's life that has gone unmentioned. Spock is distracted nowadays, often communicating with his firm in Boston, finally succumbing to a return trip there. Jim has tried broaching the subject before and had the conversation quickly steered in another direction.

Huffing out an exasperated breath because, honestly, he is becoming sleep-deprived from such circular thinking, Jim steps onto the sidewalk and makes a bee line for a particular corner store.

A tiny bell on the door rings to announce Jim Kirk’s entrance into the lingerie shop. The first thing he spies, besides the flash of Gaila across the shop holding a black bra against a young woman, is the unusually large glass vase of red roses displayed grandly on the corner of the shop counter. Since Gaila will finish with her customer before acknowledging his presence, he meanders in that direction to get a closer look at the flowers. Curious, he reaches out to pull the small white card from between two stems to see who sent them.

“No touching!” interrupts one of his favorite people. Gaila walks behind the counter and starts straightening the blooms as though Jim had messed with them (which he hadn’t dared do).

“You have an admirer?”

The smile curving her lips is not for him. That makes Jim all the more curious. Gaila says, “He’s a new beau of mine. We met at The Jade Leaf. I was all alone, having been stood up by a jackass not worth mentioning, and there he was—my knight in shining Armani!” Her eyes twinkle. “He’s a friend of Gary’s. We had dinner together.” Her tone suggests they are way past the dinner-together stage.

To feel a pang of jealousy is ridiculous but Jim is male and Gaila will always be just a little bit _his_. He tries to change the subject, to address a more pressing need. Gaila lifts one of her delicately shaped eyebrows when Jim puts on his charmer’s smile.

“Have lunch with me.”

“I have a lunch date.” Her quick rebuttal is a sharp sting to his pride but Jim keeps his smile in place, knowing that Gaila didn’t mean it to hurt.

“Is there room for one more?” he asks politely, loathing the thought of eating alone today for some reason.

She stops flipping through a clothing catalogue to look at him in sudden understanding. “Oh, Jim, I’m sorry. It’s a real date, not just lunch with a friend. So if you come along…”

“Awkward city.” Jim sighs dramatically. “Why am I all alone?”

Gaila puts aside the catalogue. “Where are your two sidekicks?”

He blinks. “Since when are boyfriends called sidekicks?”

The red-head chuckles. “Welcome to a woman’s world, honey.”

He’d be stupid to comment on that. “Spock’s in Boston until Friday, and by the time I got to the clinic to take Bones to lunch, he’d already run off with Christine.”

“Why wouldn’t he? She’s a hot blonde.”

“I’m a hot blond,” argues Kirk.

“But you don’t have breasts,” Gaila argues back.

Jim pulls up his t-shirt, exposing his chest, and grins. “I do have breasts. They’re flat breasts.”

She swats at his head. “You beast, this is a respectable establishment! Quit flashing my customers!”

A low tittering sounds behind Jim. He turns and looks. Two elderly women smile good-naturedly at him from the other side of a rack of nighties and lace. Jim jerks his shirt back down, flushing.

Gaila makes a _tsk-tsk_ noise then procures a pocket makeup mirror from thin air in order to reapply her lipstick. Jim’s sneaky fingers snag the card from the bouquet of roses while she is occupied.

“Khan?” he reads. “What kind of name is that?”

“What kind of name is Spock?” she counters.

“It’s sexy,” says Jim defensively.

She smirks at him. “I’ll bet, especially when you’re moaning it.”

His mouth almost drops open. Gaila leans over the counter and gives him a peck of kiss at the corner of his mouth. “You’re so cute when you blush, Jimmy.”

“You’re an evil woman.”

“I’m a _gorgeous_ evil woman.” She pats her curly hair. “Khan says he admires red hair. It symbolizes a fiery nature.”

Khan sounds like a douche bag, but Jim doesn’t say so. He slides the card across the counter to Gaila. “My guess is he’s loaded.”

“Oh, very endowed,” she emphasizes, deliberately misunderstanding him.

Jim rolls his eyes and tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’ll be on my way, then, before my ego is completely trampled.”

Her eyes give him a slow once-over. “You’ve nothing to worry about, sweetie. I remember _your_ endowment, too. It’ll do.”

Jim starts backpedaling towards the door. “Good _bye_ , Gaila!” he calls out too brightly.

She waggles her fingers at him, no doubt amused at his hasty retreat. Just as the door to the lingerie shop swings shut, Jim sees a slew of female customers converging on Gaila. His face burns at the prospect of what details she is going to tell them about her former lover and his acceptable "endowment."

As Jim is fishing for his bike keys on his person, a man in a perfectly tailored suit, hands relaxed in trouser pockets, strides with purpose down the same street, heading in the direction from whence Jim came. He has shoulder-length black hair, a strongly handsome face, and attentive eyes which miss nothing and assess everything. Those eyes pause on Kirk's back, just briefly, before tracking onwards. Jim never turns around; had he, however, this moment would have become the first meeting between James Tiberius Kirk and Khan Noonien Singh.

~~~

Pushing open a door with a bell for the second time that day, Jim isn't able to say a word before he is swept into chaos. His mother, Winona Kirk, has his arm in a death grip and is dragging her only son toward the kitchen.

He whines, "But it's my lunch break! I'm hungry!"

She ignores him. "The chicken salad goes to Table 3. Table 4 hasn't had their orders taken yet. Then go see what Sulu needs help with."

The battle is lost before it's begun. He slips behind the fairly new counter of the Enterprise Diner and collects several plates of food, frowning down at the order slips to figure to whom the food belongs. Uhura shoulders him aside, snapping, "Either move or work! Can't you see we're packed?"

Jose is going to kill him, Jim thinks. Late again. And it's not like he's lying when he says he was forced into slave labor (that is, sadly unpaid labor) by his mother.

Come to think of it, Jose did tell him to avoid the diner and get back to work on time.

Oops.

Deciding to blame the entire situation on an errant Bones—really, why is lunch with Christine better than lunch with his boyfriend, anyway?—Jim grabs the tray of food with both hands and hurries to take care of the Enterprise's customers. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially not his mother, but seeing the diner booming with business puts his mind at ease. It makes the memories of the charred hull of the old diner less painful.

"Of tragedy comes the promise of new life," he murmurs to no one in particular.

Kirk smiles and flirts his way from booth to booth, accepting compliments and thank-you's and _Why, little Jimmy, aren't you the spitting image of your father!_ with a pleasantness that, in most cases, greets him in return. Some people ask him if he knows what kind of building is going up around the corner where a wide lot has been cleared for construction. He says he hasn't a clue. Others want to discuss the weather at length, or list their latest physical ailments since it's common knowledge he is living with a doctor.

"I heard some foreign executive wants to buy out the Derby hospital. Can you imagine? Buy a hospital!" exclaims one customer sitting by herself.

Jim nods absently as he refills the lady's coffee cup. "Definitely not. I only make enough money to save up for a vacation every five years." He'd like to go to Yosemite National Park one day, see a spread of forest from a mountain's vantage point. But that's a quiet dream.

She agrees with him wholeheartedly.

And if the customers aren't trying to root out more gossip, they are intent on making their own. A couple is arguing loudly at a back table. One small girl whaps her brother upside the head with a fork.

These are his people, the people of Riverside, Kirk thinks proudly. He couldn't imagine life anywhere else.

Thirty minutes later, when the lunch crowd ebbs with the change of the hour, Jim pokes his head around the kitchen door, apple in hand, and quirks his mouth. He looks at Sulu from over his shoulder, the chef still working diligently at the stove, and asks, "Do you think it's safe?"

Sulu grunts as he tosses two pieces of bread onto the grill top to toast. The kitchen boy Pavel, on the other hand, is more than willing to answer—and investigate. The bright-eyed young man scuttles across the kitchen, then peers under Jim's arm into the main dining room.

Eyes wide, Pavel offers, "Perhaps it is. Ms. Winona is at the register, da?"

Meaning, now is as good a time as any to make a break for the door. Jim hands Pavel his half-eaten apple and salutes. "If I don't make it, tell Sasha of my undying love for her."

Pavel grins lopsidedly. "This she knows, Jim." He hurries back to Sulu's side.

Jim hums to himself as he ambles along the outside of the diner counter. Pausing purposefully in the line of sight of the register, he cries, "Bye, Mom!"

Winona nods to the two men holding bills, takes their money for their meals, and returns the proper change to each. Then she wipes her hands on her apron, asks the other people in line to pay if they wouldn't mind waiting for a moment and heads for Jim at the opposite end of the diner. In passing the kitchen window, a perfectly timed sandwich plate appears and she picks it up.

Jim is ready to receive his parting hug and opens his arms, saying, "I'll see tomorrow for dinner, right?"

Winona smiles at him—and shoves half of the sandwich from the plate into his open mouth. "You need to eat before you leave, baby."

Jim instinctively bites down on the sandwich, having little other choice, and then chews a mouthful of it thoughtfully for a few seconds before swallowing. Turkey, bacon, and swiss with honey mustard. Sulu is taking pity on him today. Bits of sandwich in hand, he complains, "I have to get back to the garage. I'm twenty minutes late already."

She points at a swivel-stool along the counter. He obediently sits down and starts on the other half of the club sandwich. "I called Jose while you were flipping burgers. He said it's fine."

Jim muffles his chuckle with a french fry. Jose wouldn't dare _not_ say it's fine to Winona Kirk. Although... "It'll be even finer if I take him a slice of chocolate pie," he wheedles.

As if hearing her cue, Uhura slides a small to-go box under his nose and smirks at him. He peeks into the box: two slices of chocolate pie. Wow, Jose might just forgive him after all.

Jim finishes his plate of food, kisses his mother on the cheek, sticks his tongue out at Nyota, and exits the Enterprise Diner in a very good mood.

~~~

His good mood vanishes at the end of the work day when he returns home. The apartment is eerily quiet, except for the noise of the refrigerator and the ticking of an old clock in Bones' bedroom. Jim sinks into the couch, realizing that even the company of Spock's cat, Bo Peep, would be better than this silence.

But everyone—save Spock, who is hundreds of miles away—is at the large house Spock is now half of a month away from owning outright. Bones, Joanna, Bo Peep... and Eleanor.

Does he dare go over there and crash the McCoy family time?

Jim swallows once, mouth dry, and takes a swig from the open beer bottle in his hand. His eyes track to the telephone, linger there.

The clock keeps ticking, the frig keeps droning on. Eventually Jim sighs, picks up the television remote, and bypasses the news channel for a basketball game.

How strange his life is right now; strange, indeed, because though Jim Kirk is no longer alone, no longer relationship-less or love-less, tonight feels exactly like one of those long, lonely nights before Bones and Spock came to Riverside and changed everything. But it's only temporary, Jim reassures himself. There's tomorrow, and he'll arrive at the Riverside Clinic a little earlier so he can treat Bones to lunch. He'll dig out that phone number Spock left behind and together he and Leonard can catch Spock between meetings in Boston.

Who knows. Maybe tomorrow will also be the day he manages to find his way into Eleanor's good graces.

Jim can only hope.

Still, the telephone remains silent and he doesn't use it to make a call either, simply for the sake of hearing a warm, familiar drawl.


	2. Part Two

"You're quiet today, _chico_."

Jim looks askance at his boss. "I've been singing Aerosmith for the better part of an hour to annoy you."

Jose doesn't bother to lift his head from under the hood of the car engine he is inspecting. "So you don't want to talk about it."

"Nope."

Jose grunts. For the next ten minutes, there are only the sounds of work. Then, "You haven't said anything about your family in a while." _Family_ is how Jose categorizes the word boyfriend. The man hasn't quite figured out why Jim needs two of them.

Dialing up the volume on the old radio, Jim starts banging his wrench against a recalcitrant lug nut. Eventually he'll get around to using the correct tool to take it off. While working, he catches sight of Jose's boots in his peripheral vision. The boots track in a wide circle around Jim.

The radio goes dead. Jim stops pounding on the hub-cap and frowns at the silent radio, smacks it once. Then Jose straightens up from his crouch with an unplugged cord in his hand. The man says expectantly, "Well?" At Jim's baleful glare, Jose adds, "Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about relationship problems."

Jose's divorced, having left his ex-wife back in Cincinnati, and he never talks about it. Jim immediately comprehends the value of the offer Jose is making.

Kirk scratches the back of his neck with the wrench in his hand. "It's complicated."

"So the mother-in-law is giving you trouble."

He perks up. "How did you know that?"

"It's _always_ the mother-in-law."

"Technically she's not my mother-in-law."

"Feels like one, I bet. She giving you crap?" reiterates the man.

Jim stands up and discards his tool for a proper drill, sighing out all his frustration. "The real problem is that she doesn't acknowledge me at all, like I'm fucking invisible."

"Mmm," murmurs his boss. "It could be worse."

"How?"

"Say she offered to buy you off."

Jim scoffs then considers Jose's expression and does a mental flip. "Wait, what? No, man, that stuff only happens in soap operas."

Jose takes out a rag to wipe his grease-blackened fingers as he talks. "Where there's a rich man and a poor man, there's always disparity. My ex-wife's family has money— _mucho, si?_ To her mother I was an ethnic nobody. Shoulda been her gardener, not the man in love with her daughter."

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry, Jose."

"Hey," says Jose with a shrug, "that's people. What I'm telling you, Jim... There wasn't anything I could do to change her mind if she didn't want it changed. My Bella—my ex-wife—she's the one who had to tell her mother to back off and let us be. Your doctor needs to step up."

Jim almost says that he doesn't think that's going to happen. Instead he remarks offhandedly, fiddling with a piece of paper in his pocket, "I don't think Bones knows there is a problem."

"Then he needs his ass kicked for not paying attention!" snaps Jose, taking Jim by surprise with his sudden temper.

"It's not his fault," Jim says in Leonard's defense.

Jose grumbles something under his breath.

Jim says again, more insistently, "It's not his fault!"

Jose turns away. "We need to finish the Hyundai before lunch." And that, apparently, is Jose's way of ending their heart-to-heart moment.

Jim is not going to argue, not when he can still read the lines of frustration—and possible anger—in Jose's face. Without a word, Kirk snags the cord for the radio and plugs it back into the outlet, then switches the receiver to AM radio. The music of a classical piece fills the silence of the garage. Jose likes classical music, Jim knows, and maybe mellifluous chords will soothe his boss when words cannot.

He is still thinking about what Jose said when lunchtime arrives. Because Jim feels slightly bad for upsetting his generally easy-going boss, he offers to take Jose to the diner for a meal. Jose says there is no way in hell he is going to wait tables. Jim assures him, "Mom won't enlist you, man. I promise. But you can watch me run around."

Which, it seems, is good enough entertainment for Jose.

~~~

Plugging one ear with a finger against the noise of the lunch crowd, Jim taps his foot with impatience while the pay phone rings and rings. His mother wouldn't let him use the diner's phone because the line needs to be open for incoming to-go orders. He'd nicked a few quarters from the register, ignoring her admonishment of "Jim! That is not your piggy bank!" and promised hastily to return the change later (which means the next time he remembers to).

"C'mon," he tells the stupid phone.

Someone picks up. "Cochrane Law Firm. How may I direct your call?"

"Mr. Spock, please."

The voice pauses. "Mr. Spock is in a meeting. Shall I transfer you to his voicemail?"

Jim hesitates, finally says, "All right."

When Spock's voice comes over the line, politely informing his caller that he is unavailable and to leave contact information, Jim holds his breath. He is acting ridiculous, of course, as though Spock has been gone for months when it has only been days. At the _beep_ , Jim says, "Uh, hi, it's me. Just checking in. We're fine. We, um," he blushes and lowers his voice, "miss you. See you on Friday."

Jim puts a hand over his face after he hangs up, embarrassed that he sucks at leaving coherent voice messages.

"Awww, isn't that sweet?"

Jim spins around. A beautiful, dark-haired woman smiles at him. He demands, before he can stop himself, "What are you doing here, Marlena?" His mother would have chewed rocks rather than hire her as a waitress for the new diner.

Her eyes skip around the room. "To eat lunch. I assume this is still a public restaurant. Nice decor, by the way."

Knowing that if he doesn't walk away, he might do something foolish, Jim ignores her and heads back to the booth he is sharing with Jose. Marlena, who hates to be ignored, digs her fingers into his arm as he passes her. "I hear Leonard's mother is in town," she says sweetly. "I doubt she thinks much of _you_ , Jimmy. She'll be looking for the right _woman_ for her son." Her smile is malicious.

Jim clamps a hand on her wrist. "Let go, Marlena. And don't talk to me again."

They lock gazes. She says at last, "Tell that red-headed bitch to keep away from me. I missed three days of work because of her."

Jim is of the opinion that Marlena got what she deserved. "You leave my family alone, and they will leave you alone." It's the only promise he can offer.

She lets him go. To his retreating back, however, the woman says loudly, "Fuck your family, Kirk! You ruin everything!"

Jim says nothing as his mother drops what she is doing behind the counter and heads in Marlena's direction, no doubt to drag the woman through the exit by the hair. Uhura, coffee pot in hand, isn't far behind. Except Marlena Moreau gives the women a nasty smirk and walks out of the Enterprise Diner on her own.

Jose, smart enough not to ask, slides a bowl of banana pudding at Jim. They finish their once-leisurely lunch in a hurry and return to the auto shop, not a word spoken between them.

~~~

It's dark outside by the time Winona Kirk arrives at the farm, tired but smiling as she steps through the kitchen door. Jim is at the stove reading the back of a jar of sauce for the umpteenth time. Then he leans over a pot to sniff the steam. It's not burning, he decides, which is good.

"I was going to cook, Jimmy," his mother says as she sheds her coat and purse.

"You're busy all day. You need a break." He adds indignantly, "And I _am_ capable of making food."

She puts a hand against his cheek, says with fondness, "Didn't you almost ruin Spock's kitchen?"

He mumbles, "Wasn't my fault. It was a gas stove."

When she questions what's in the pot, he shows her the jar. Winona remarks that prepared spaghetti sauce still needs a few extra spices to make it taste better. She also comes up with a bell pepper, mushrooms, and an onion in addition a spice rack. Subsequently, Jim is gently nudged aside while his mother chops more ingredients and fixes the sauce to her liking.

"What's in the oven, dear?" she asks.

"Garlic bread."

After checking on it, she says conversationally, "You and Robert take such good care of me. I'm a lucky woman."

"Bob?" Is she trying to tell him something?

"Mmhm. Robert says he's worried that I am working too hard. I told him he needs to worry about his own self, with the heart attack and all. He makes me dinner sometimes. I didn't realize he could cook so well."

Jim admits honestly that he is somewhat surprised. "Are you dating Bob?"

"I would have never dated Robert when I was under his employ."

"Which doesn't answer my question," he points out.

She is smiling to herself. "You know I'm content as I am, Jimmy. That doesn't mean I would be offended by male company once and a while." Then she announces that the bread looks done and lets him pull out the baking sheet from the oven and transfer the bread slices to a basket on the kitchen table.

They enjoy a stretch of companionable silence, Jim slumped over the kitchen table and Winona at the stove. But after some minutes, she stops slowly stirring the pot of bubbling spaghetti sauce and wants to know, "What's wrong?"

Jim blinks, caught in the act of stealing a piece of warm garlic toast. Rather than answering, he stuffs the bread into his mouth and shrugs.

Her response is to pull out a chair at the kitchen table and sit down to wait on him to swallow. "I know that look, Jimmy. What's the matter?" Her gaze drops pointedly down to his hand, more specifically to his fidgety fingers.

Ah crap. He has a habit of tracing invisible patterns on the tabletop when there's something on his mind. She knows that; in fact, she's the one who told Spock about it during a Sunday meal. Spock had thanked her graciously for the insight into Reading the Signs of a Withdrawn Jim Kirk. Then the combined stares of Winona, Leonard, and Spock had forced him to blurt out the news he had thought would be unwelcome: the Harley was restored and ready to ride. But Bones had sighed around a fried chicken drumstick and said, "Quit lookin' like we're gonna set fire to Jose's shop." Jim had started. Had they already known about the Harley? "We knew this day was coming, kid. Just don't... Be safe, okay?"

"I'm fine."

"James Tiberius. It's too cold to sit outside by the fence at midnight and have this conversation." Her face softens. "It's just the two of us here. Can't you tell me, baby?"

He doesn't necessarily want to talk about his love-life with his mother but he tries to hedge around the subject. "It's nothing. I guess I miss Bones and Spock."

She frowns. "Spock I understand, but don't you see Leonard every day?"

"Not really."

She props her chin in her hand, looking not so much like a mother as an interested confidante.

Jim relaxes and describes the situation, Bones' absence and Spock's elusive attention. He is careful of what he says about Eleanor, because as innocent and sweet as Winona looks, she wouldn't hesitate to go toe-to-toe with Bones' mother if she heard that the woman wasn't treating her son right.

Winona gets up to turn down the sauce to a simmer and drop noodles into another pot of salted boiling water. Then she returns to her seat and speaks. "As much as you love them, Jimmy, and as much as I believe they love you, your relationship is still new. You haven't worked out all the kinks yet. Honestly, some of what's troubling you now may always be an underlying issue—but when people are in love, they learn to accept the good _and_ the bad." She smiles. "You've done wonders for Leonard, so let him have his time with his family. I promise he won't forget you, Jim. Nobody could."

"But what about Spock? Should I worry?"

"Aren't you worrying already? And it hasn't helped you one bit, has it?"

He makes a face. 

She threatens him with a spatula then sobers. "The best you can do for Spock is not hound him. There's nothing more stubborn than a man who isn't ready to talk about what's on his mind. But he'll come around. Though I do suggest that you let him know he is worrying you. He'll come around faster that way." She punctuates her advice with a saucy wink that makes him laugh.

He is about to inquire after the edible state of the spaghetti when his stomach does it for him with a loud growl. Winona says, amused, "The noodles should be ready in five minutes."

God, how he loves his mother. He tells her so. She returns the sentiment with equal measure.

~~~

Jim is facedown on the couch caught in a hazy dream when a hand starts a slow rub between his shoulder blades. At first he is certain that he is still dreaming and clutches one of the couches' pillows more tightly. Then the pleasant rubbing stops, and in his dream he mumbles "Not cool" and twitches his back muscles unhappily.

Something brushes against the curve of his ear. "Jim," it says. "Jiiimmm."

The haze vanishes in an instant and there's no way he can hold onto it. Not that he'd want to. Jim peeks open an eye. "Bones?" he questions sleepily, turning onto his side.

The edge of the couch sinks as Jim's legs are rearranged across Leonard's lap.

The thought comes to him that now is the best time to take advantage of this situation. Jim hauls himself upright, tilts Leonard's jaw just so, and kisses him. When Bones winds his fingers into Jim's short hair, tugging at it in a clear sign of _more_ , Jim deepens the kiss. They stay like that for as long as Jim can stand it, until his muscles protest his twisted position with sharp painful insistence. He lets go of Bones and flops back down on the couch, groaning but grinning.

The doctor's strong hands knead one of Kirk's calves. "Why are you napping in the middle of the day?"

He was lonely, had intended to close his eyes only for a moment so he could picture the people he was missing most, and had unintentionally fallen asleep. Jim says nothing of that. "I'm bored."

Bones' snort is soft. "Then you ought to be at Spock's, idiot. Entertaining Joanna for an afternoon defies boredom." The man's eyes darken. "She was asking where you were. Was wonderin' that myself, Jim."

Jim is silent for some seconds. "It's important that you are able to spend time with her," he says by way of explanation.

Leonard narrows his eyes. "Since when did spending time with you and spending time with Joanna become mutually exclusive events?"

He shakes his head quickly. "That's not... Bones, I swore to myself I wouldn't intrude when it came to your family. This is your time."

Bones shoves Jim's legs from his lap to the ground without warning, then plants a hand next to Jim's head so that he can lean over Kirk and bring their faces within inches of one another. "You're a fool," Jim is told, "if you think my 'family' doesn't include you. What's this really about, kid? I go home to Joanna every night but that doesn't mean I don't keep expecting you to walk through the damn front door. I thought—" Bones breaks off from whatever he was going to say next. "JoJo _likes_ you, Jim." It's almost a plea.

Jim sucks in an unsteady breath before confessing in a whisper, "But your mother doesn't."

Bones sits up again, frowning. "She likes you."

Jim sits up, too, and faces away. "Yeah right. I know how to interpret her kind of look, Bones. It says I might as well be shit on the bottom of her shoes."

"I would know if she doesn't like you! Hell, my mother wouldn't keep an opinion to herself to save her life!"

Jim rakes a hand through his hair. If Bones can't see what's obvious, then how could Jim possibly convince him? "Forget it."

Leonard grabs his arm. "Listen to me. I swear it's not _you_ , Jim, no matter what you think. She's—mixed up. She thinks I won't go back to Georgia because..."

Jim looks at his boyfriend, then, catching that pause and knowing what it means. "Because of me. Because this is where I live?" He barks out a laugh, the sound surprisingly bitter. "That makes perfect sense! Of course you wouldn't be stuck here because of Spock. I'm the one who lives in Riverside. This is _my_ home." 

His laugh ends as abruptly as it began. "So she came to take you back to Georgia, huh, Bones." Damn, he should have known that would happen; but he was just too blindingly happy, living in fanastyland. The idea of Bones leaving is akin to a knife in his heart. Jim stands up, pretending otherwise. "Eleanor will call here in another minute looking for you. I bet you didn't tell her where you were going."

"I'm a grown man. Where I go is my own business."

He says nothing else, instead stalks to the bathroom. 

Bones raises his voice from the couch. "Jim! Damn it, Jim, we need to talk!"

He knows from experience that shutting the bathroom door does little in the way of sound-proofing. Jim leans against the sink counter and shivers, then turns on the tap and wipes down his face and neck with chilled water. He waits, but Bones isn't beating down the bathroom door as normally happens when they argue and Jim walks away from the conversation.

Inexplicably terrified that Leonard has left him, Jim jerks open the door and hurries back into the living room. Bones isn't gone, however. His boyfriend is standing next to the wide-open front door. Framed within the doorway is Eleanor McCoy, Joanna McCoy pressed up against her grandmother's side.

"Prince Jim!" cries the little girl when she spies him. Joanna scoots away from her grandmother and runs across the room to hug Jim's knees. 

"Princess!" he crows. He makes a show of picking her up and exclaiming over how heavy she is. 

"I'm a good size for m'age. Granny says so," she informs him.

Jim nods gravely. "You are perfect, Princess. Even your nose is perfect. It looks just like your daddy's." He tweaks it fondly.

Joanna covers her nose and cranes her head around to look at her father, inspecting his face with wide eyes. Eventually she protests, "His nose is lots bigger."

"You're still growing," Leonard tells his daughter, amused. Then, to Eleanor, "You didn't have to come all the way out here, Ma."

Eleanor McCoy adjusts the angle of her hat and removes her gloves but keeps her purse tucked in the crook of her arm—a sign, Jim gathers, that she isn't planning to visit for long. "I know you don't live at Mr. Spock's, Leonard." Her eyes flick over to Jim. "Am I invited in?"

Jim nods dumbly, quite dismayed by how he must appear—rumpled and messy. The apartment, unfortunately, is in similar condition. He cringes as Eleanor walks around the couch, sharp eyes studying each nook and cranny and every discarded used napkin or untidy surface. The older woman sits daintily on the edge of the recliner chair. 

"Joanna, come here and sit," she says firmly.

Joanna's lower lip pushes out in a pout, so Jim picks her up, swinging her a little to make her laugh, and plops them both down onto the couch. 

She says, "Daddy! Daddy, sit by me!"

Leonard obeys, his mouth stretching in a smile as she climbs into his lap. "You're gettin' too big to sit on someone, JoJo."

The little girl beams at Jim as she kicks her heels against Leonard's legs. Jim beams back, both of them ignoring her father. 

Then the questions begin: "Do you live here, Daddy?"

"Sometimes."

"But why? Uncle Spock's house is bigger! 'N it has a pool!"

"Sometimes I stay there, too." Bones hugs Joanna against his chest. She squirms.

"Granny says it's foolish to live in two houses."

"Joanna!" gasps Eleanor. "We do not repeat what others say. It's ill-mannered."

Jim laughs silently. The woman most certainly wouldn't want Joanna to repeat anything _she_ said. "Bones is my roommate, Princess, which means he has his own room here," answers Jim. He shoots a sidelong glance at Bones before continuing. "But Uncle Spock is alone in his big ol' house, so sometimes we have a sleep-over there, too."

Eleanor stiffens, but Joanna finds this answer acceptable. She nods judiciously. 

Leonard's mother interrupts before the little girl can query further about their "sleep-overs" or the exact nature of a roommate relationship. "There's no need to take the bus home, Leonard. We brought the car."

Joanna turns, her mind undoubtedly leaping to a great idea, and flings her arms around her father's neck. "Daddy, I saw the ice cream store! Can we go there?"

Jim is rather proud of introducing her to the Ice Cream Shoppe. Nyota's aunt and uncle took an instant liking to the blonde-haired child. They let her have an extra scoop on her ice cream cone for free. (Jim had tried to slip them more money for the treat but they wouldn't take it, saying they are always pleased when Kirk brings them new business.)

Bones pats her back, and Jim instantly knows that the man is going to cave. It's funny how helpless Bones is when faced with Joanna's very sweet, little girl giggle of _Daddy_. But Jim seen her stomp her feet in temper and rumble _Daaaaddy!_ like a thundercloud too. The girl doesn't do tearful tantrums, only heated and quite scary ones. He thinks she must have inherited such behavior from Bones. Spock had agreed with this observation.

Leonard says, "Sure, darlin'." 

Joanna is off the couch and by the front door in a split second. The adults follow more sedately. Jim waves a hand at his attire, saying, "I should change first."

"Oh, we didn't mean to disturb you, Mr. Kirk," Eleanor McCoy says. "I can see you need your sleep. Go on and rest."

Jim's heart drops to the floor.

Leonard is staring at his mother, brows drawn together. He says to Jim, "We can wait five minutes."

Eleanor searches her son's face for a moment. Then she takes Joanna's hand and says, "We'll wait in the car." Leonard opens the door for them.

Jim doesn't need to see any more. He goes to get changed, wondering if he's made a terrible mistake. He hadn't considered that if a wedge is driven between Bones and his mother, Eleanor could take Joanna back to Georgia in a heartbeat, could make it difficult for Leonard to see his daughter again.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, pulling on a pair of clean jeans. Just... fuck.

Suddenly he wants Spock home more than ever.


	3. Part Three

"Have you met Gaila's new paramour?" Nyota wants to know as she weighs a bowling ball between her hands. Discarding it for some reason, she spies a pink ball and picks that one to admire next.

Jim finishes tying the laces on his rented bowling shoes. "Who the heck says paramour these days?"

"Gaila does" is the woman's absent reply. Experimentally swinging the pink bowling ball, she smiles with satisfaction. Jim, on the other hand, makes sure to give both Nyota and it a wide berth. She adds, "He's good-looking" like that is the most important quality a man needs to have.

"So what?" mutters her blond-haired companion.

Uhura considers his nonchalant stance. "It bites you in the ass, doesn't it?" She carefully returns the bowling ball to its rightful place on a rack. "Jesus, Jim, don't be such a dickhead."

"I'm not!"

"Is that why you pretended to be busy when Gaila stopped by the diner yesterday? You were _rude_."

Jim rolls his eyes. "What do I care that she's banging some rich dude?"

"So you _are_ jealous!" Nyota's eyes bore into the back of his head. "Why? You're dating other people."

He sighs. "You know it's not like that."

"Yes, I do. But does your little brain know that?"

He turns on her, suddenly mad. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She is one of the few people who won't back down from a pissing contest with him. "I think you're jealous because she finally got over you. I think you miss knowing that you had a backup."

Jim stares at Nyota for a long moment. Finally he swallows down his anger and asks, more to himself, "You... really believe that?"

She reaches out and lightly runs a hand up and down his arm, as if to take the sting out of the truth. "Gaila didn't want commitment when you did, Jim. You always said that's why you two broke up even though you loved each other. After a while, though? She'd have given in to you, Jim. You knew that. You could count on it, just in case."

"In case I never met anyone else," he finishes.

"Hey, that's not wrong. Everyone wants to know they have someone." Nyota's smile has a touch of sadness to it. "Gaila depended on you too, Jim, but she put on a brave face when Leonard and Spock came along. The least you can do is return the favor."

His shoulders droop. "Am I really such an asshole?"

Nyota hugs him. "You're the most generous-hearted person I know, dummy. You're also male. It means you'll still do stupid shit."

Jim pulls back. "Why am I not comforted by your pep-talk?" he asks, despite the naked gratitude in his eyes.

She pushes him away and picks up her favorite bowling ball again. "Are you insulting me, James Kirk?"

He eyes first her then the bowling ball. Pink is a menacing color. "Nooo."

She sashies past him to the lane they have chosen. "I didn't _think_ so." Then, "Loser buys dinner."

Nyota sucks at bowling. They both know it. So she didn't come here solely to play a game with him. In the same breath, Jim says "You're on" and "Thanks, Uhura."

Her only acknowledgement of his second statement is to toss a smile in his direction over her shoulder. Then it's all concentration on how to bowl. She, like always, goes up to the thick black line at the beginning of the lane, squats, and gives the ball a mighty push forward. When it hits the gutter halfway down and she starts in on a round of cussing, Jim laughs, at peace.

~~~

It's Friday and Spock will be home that evening. Jim is late to work due to his own presence of mind—more specifically, a lack thereof—because he managed to catch Spock at his Boston apartment and need to be reassured more than once that Spock wasn't going to miss his flight back to Iowa.

Spock had eventually said, "Central time is 7:56 am, Jim. Will you not be late to work?"

At that point Jim had been struck with a sense of impending doom, cried "Jose's gonna eat me for breakfast! Fuck!", immediately banged his shin against the coffee table, and subsequently dropped the phone.

Spock's voice came back to him from the vicinity of the carpet. "Jim, panic is pointless."

He fell to his knees and said at the phone, "Remember those words when I'm standing in the unemployment line!" He almost added that Spock could be his sugar daddy and pay all his bills but Spock would not laugh at that joke, so Jim let the opportunity sadly slip away.

Currently he is flying down the highway, barely taking curves in a proper fashion (Bones would have a heart attack, and his mother would kill him dead) to cut down on time. Jim is tempted to stop his Harley one or two blocks away and silently walk both himself and it to the auto shop. Otherwise Jose would recognize the sound of the motorbike and come out of his office, fly-swat swinging, and be upon Jim in an instant.

He sighs, decides to face fate, and pulls directly into the parking lot. Strangely enough, no Jose pelts out the office door. And the garage doors are still rolled up.

Jim, suddenly worry for Jose overriding anxiety for himself, hastily yanks off his helmet and enters the front office. The door opens with a tale-tell _beep_ , and he walks up to the deserted counter.

"Jose?"

Wandering toward a small back room of the office, he notes that though its door is closed, a light is on inside the room. Jim stops outside the door, eavesdropping. He hears the low familiar baritone of Jose's voice. A second voice follows, another man's voice, and that makes Jim think twice about knocking. Sensing no tension in the air, he decides Jose is probably discussing shop with a customer and so Jim heads into the garage area to change into his overalls.

Jim reviews the work orders on a chart, attempting to choose between working on a car or the conked-out mailman's truck sagging in the back of the garage. The U.S. Postal Service keeps the vehicles until they fall apart into a hundred pieces on the road; and only then does the government allot a small budget for repairs. Such jobs are the bane of the auto shop's existence but as Jose says, they can't turn away any kind of work. "Economy's in the pits as it is" Jose is fond of repeating in Jim's ears. "Fix the truck, we get paid, and mail gets delivered." (Jim's reply, while frowning at the small box-shaped vehicle, was "Fix it with what? Glue and duck-tape?" Jose had shrugged and left that decision up to Kirk.)

He hears someone say, "Consider it. We will speak again."

Jim tucks the chart under his arm and peeks through a window into the office. Jose stares at the hand proffered by a man attired in a no-nonsense business suit before slowly extending his own hand and completing the handshake. Jose doesn't return the farewell and silently watches the man exit the front office.

Jim stumbles through the door, itching with curiosity. It's the blank look on Jose's face that makes him ask cautiously, "Who was that?"

Jose glances in his direction. "Some hotshot. He wants to buy the garage."

Jim could have been smacked with a two-by-four out of thin air and he would be less surprised. " _What?_ "

Jose frowns, almost says something else, but changes his mind; instead he shrugs and fishes out a pair of work gloves from under the counter. Jim is hot on his heels all the way into the garage.

"Jose? Jose! Fuck, man, you can't drop a bomb like that AND NOT TELL ME ANYTHING!"

Jose stops, turns on him. "You were late to work this morning."

Jim is having none of _let's change the subject_. "So fire me. Oh wait, I might lose my job anyway... if you sell the fucking garage!"

"Jim!" barks the older man. "Calm down! I didn't say I was selling, okay? I—I don't know." Jose, whom Jim has rarely seen so uncertain, rakes a hand through the grey hair at his temples. "I don't know, Jim" is all he can repeat.

Jose pulls out a white card from his pocket and stares down at it. Jim leans closer to Jose, heart thumping madly in his chest, to get a good look at the name of the bastard who is monkeying with his boss—and thereby Jim.

Below the logo and company title _Eugenics Corp._ in bold capital print is:  
 **KHAN NOONIEN SINGH**  
CEO

Jim makes a noise that has Jose asking, "You know this guy?"

Jim shakes his head slowly, reeling. "No, I don't." Then more firmly, "But I'm going to know him _soon_."

Why is Gaila's boyfriend trying to purchase Jose's business?

~~~

Jim had a bad headache that lasted through the morning into the late afternoon. By the time he made it to Spock's house, his mood was awful, his road rage was swelling past the point of no return, and his language had devolved into something quite foul.

He had been asking himself the same questions over and over all day, only to have no idea of a good answer. Who is Khan, and what the _fuck_ is this Khan up to? Gaila had closed down her shop for vacation time when he swung by at lunchtime (that's what the stupid sign on the door said, _fuck her too_ ) and the loud noises in the diner only caused Jim to grit his teeth harder.

Then in his own _home_ (okay, so it's Spock's, minor detail) Eleanor said something unappreciative to his back, he snapped at her, Bones snapped at him, and soon the atmosphere in the house was dangerous. When he turned on Bones, pissed, Bones didn't have the sense to tell Jim to cool off. The day only got worse from there.

Now it's two hours later, his headache has eased and the house is quiet. Jim is ensconced in the living room with Joanna. Eleanor (smug Eleanor, Jim thinks unhappily) is probably consoling her son and convincing him to run off to Georgia when night falls.

Jim jerks a page of the science fiction book in his hands, almost tearing it.

A young voice interrupts his train of thought. "When's Uncle Spock coming back?" Joanna's legs pantomime tick-tock, tick-tock in the air. She is lying on her belly and currently doodling on a page of her brand new sketch pad. Jim isn't allowed to look at the picture until she's done. She has told him so, quite firmly.

He frowns at the paperback novel. "Today." He needs to calm down. That _today_ was too sharp, and Joanna isn't at fault for his bad mood.

"When today?"

"Soon today."

She discards a green colored pencil for a pink one. The silence in the living room lasts all of ten seconds. "Are you fightin' with Daddy?"

His breath catches. "No."

Joanna stops coloring to peer up at him through her lashes. "But Daddy slammed the door just like Mama used to."

It's amazing how much a child can pick up at a young age. No wonder most parenting books caution against uncivilized behavior around children.

"Daddy and I aren't fighting, Princess." _Jim, you are a such a liar,_ he thinks.

She goes back to her coloring. He re-reads the same paragraph twice. Two minutes later: "Look, Mr. Jim, look!" The young girl announces the finished production of her work and immediately scrambles to her feet to show it to him.

Jim sets aside his novel and carefully looks over her shoulder. "Oh, that's good, Princess!" he tells her brightly. He works hard to let the knot of anger in him go.

She puffs up with pride and points at a lovingly drawn person. "That's Granny."

Granny is a rotund stick figure with an enormous hat reclining in a lounge chair. Jim snickers, feeling better already. Then there is Miss Joanna McCoy who is pretty in a pink bathing suit, complete with a bow on top of her head.

Jim's fingers capture stray blonde wisps of Joanna's hair tickling his nose as she leans against his chest.

Spock is obvious. He's the tallest of all the stick figures, wearing pointy black shoes, no pants (did Joanna forget them?), and a flat line for a mouth instead of a smile. He looks so serious even in a seven year old's drawing that Jim's grin broadens.

"Is that Bones?" he asks, pointing to the person standing next to Joanna and holding her hand.

"Uh-huh. See, there's his ste-steoscope—"

"Stethoscope."

"Steoscope," she repeats firmly, "because he's a doctor."

After staring at Bones' swimming trunks, Jim puts a fist against his mouth. He mumbles around it, "Daddy looks good in pink."

Joanna beams in agreement.

He clears his throat and looks the picture over one more time. There's one more stick figure—well, not much of one anyway. Just a grinning circle topped with lots of short bright yellow hair.

Joanna explains, "You're swimmin'. Uncle Spock thinks the pool is icky so he ain't gonna get in with me 'n Dad 'n you. That's why he's over there with Granny."

Jim pulls Joanna into a hug. "Spock's silly, isn't he, Princess?"

"Daddy says he might have a pho-bee-ah and I shouldn't be mean and make him get in the pool."

"Are we talking about Spock?" drawls a much deeper Southern voice.

"Look, Daddy! I drew everybody!"

Bones leans against the back of the couch and studies his daughter's drawing. "Nice job, JoJo." As an afterthought, "I can see Jim's already drowning in the pool."

"I am not," Jim retorts indignantly. "I'm swimming."

"He can hold his breath a long time," adds Joanna in Jim's defense.

Jim sneaks a sidelong glance at Bones. Noting the hard lines about the man's mouth, Jim thinks he isn't over his anger yet. Well, neither is Jim, not really. Without Spock to mediate or draw some logical common ground between Leonard and Jim, their fight hadn't ended with apologies, only avoidance on both sides. Which leaves anger to fester rather than heal.

Jim checks the clock on the wall, eases Joanna from his side, and stands up. If he doesn't leave in the next ten minutes, he might be late to Riverside's small airport to pick up Spock. Jim goes to the kitchen, toward the door leading to the garage.

Joanna, however, skips along right behind him. Jim pulls off a set of keys from a hook and smiles patiently down at her. "Want to come along, Miss Joanna?"

She nods in the affirmative but her father says, "No."

Jim and Joanna look at him in surprise. Bones touches the top of Joanna's head. "I'm gonna go with Jim to get Uncle Spock, 'kay, sweetheart? Uncle Spock 'n Jim 'n I need to talk about some grown-up things."

They do?

Joanna echoes his thought with a more plaintive "Why?"

Bones finally meets Jim's gaze, mouth thinned, and even though Jim doesn't like what he sees in his boyfriend's eyes, Jim comes to his rescue. Whispering conspiratorily loud in the little girl's ear, he says, "We're planning a party for a Princess and if that Princess hears about it, there won't be any surprises left!"

With an excited gleam in her eyes, Joanna demands, "Is there gonna be a cake?"

"Maybe."

She bounces on her toes. "It has tah be ice cream cake, Prince Jim!"

Jim grins and asks in mock-surprise, "Really? Princesses like ice cream cakes? What kind?"

"Strawberry!"

"Hmm..."

Bones breaks up their scheming. "Joanna, your grandmother's out on the porch. You stay with her. And _no_ pool time until we get back, understand?"

She rolls her eyes in a perfect imitation of her father. "I know the _rules_ , Daddy. I'm not little."

Bones tweaks her hair. "You'll always be my baby girl."

Her only reply is "I want the bestest party ever!" before scampering off.

Leonard's shoulders sag once she is gone. "God," he says in low voice, "I'm gonna miss her."

Jim almost lays his hand on the man's back but withdraws it at the last second. Instead he murmurs "I know" and opens the door to the garage.

After Jim unlocks the vehicle, Bones circles around to the passenger side of the red convertible and gets in. A silent Jim Kirk starts the engine to Spock's restored Corvette. The airport is a long thirty-minute drive across town. Yet Jim wouldn't be surprised if he and Leonard do not say one word between them the entire way.


	4. Part Four

The return car ride from the airport is quieter, if somewhat less tense, than the ride to the airport. Spock is tired; Jim and Leonard both recognize the weariness in his face. The lawyer says, when McCoy asks, that the flight did not bother him. Thereafter, however, Spock is silent and so are Spock's boyfriends. Jim's gut is adamant that whatever business occurred in Boston, Spock has brought it home with him.

~~~

"Scotty!" Jim grins as he slides onto a stool at the end of the diner counter. "Hey, man! Is it semester break already?"

Uhura, who had been chatting brightly with Montgomery Scott before Jim's arrival, leans over the other side of the counter and swats at Kirk's head. "You know it's not!" she says.

Scotty blinks at the pair. "I'm home for the weekend."

Jim loops an arm around his friend's neck and gives him a man hug. "Good to see you, seriously. How's classes?"

Scotty burbles something through the straw in his glass of coca cola.

Jim interprets it as "Easy, yeah? College is a cake walk."

Uhura huffs. "Not everybody is a genius, Kirk. Some of us have to study!"

Jim's grin gets bigger. "But Scotty and I are geniuses!"

Nyota tries to stab his hand with a fork. He wisely cries, "Mom! Uhura wants to hurt me!"

Winona Kirk, some feet away, pulls out an empty plate from a shelf and bangs it down on the countertop with a harsh _clang_. The glare she levels on the three younger adults could melt stone.

Jim wants to know, "What's pissed her off?"

The waitress shrugs. "She has been like that since the morning shift ended." Uhura gives him a meaningful look; it reads _go find out and fix it pronto_.

Scotty, the bastard, nudges Jim with his elbow.

Jim accepts his mission, shoves his hands into his jacket pockets (they are sweating a little; he gets nervous when Winona's really mad), and edges in Winona's direction with a few short steps at a time until he is opposite her at the register.

"What is it, Jimmy?" his mother snaps at him. She then curses and repeatedly stabs one of the register keys with a scary viciousness.

"Um."

Her blue eyes meet his blue eyes. " _What do you need?_ "

"Er, can I help... with something?"

She looks no less upset, though her mouth softens slightly. "No, Jim. Go and visit with Scotty." She turns away.

"You are angry at me?" he blurts out. Jim knows that she isn't, but it's the best way to broach the subject.

She shakes her head. "How could I be? You just arrived."

"So... this isn't like when I walked in, innocent as a newborn, and you came at me with the broom? I totally hadn't done anything _that_ time, either."

She rounds on him. "You naughty child, you know exactly what you did! And don't you _ever_ re-label the salt and sugar containers again!"

"I was bored."

"You were bad."

"You love me anyway."

"Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't."

He comes around the counter and drapes an arm over her shoulders. "What's the matter, Mom?"

Winona sighs. "Oh, you know I'd tell you eventually, Jim."

"I would rather know now, in case I have to go find my brass knuckles and beat somebody up."

She doesn't laugh at that. Jim sobers and waits.

His mother looks out one of the windows of the diner. "I shouldn't be mad but I am. You know how hard I worked to get this place up and running." She sighs again, more slowly and deeply this time. "I've had an offer for the Enterprise, Jim."

He goes cold. "An offer? Like Jose?"

She frowns at her son. "Jose?"

"Yeah. Some guy in a monkey suit with dark hair about to here—" He indicates his shoulder. "—came by the garage two days ago and said he wants to buy it." Jim doesn't mention that Jose might be willing to sell. The thought turns his stomach.

"Yes, that sounds like the man. His name is Mr. Khan Singh. Hm," she says more to herself, "so he isn't solely scouring our block."

Jim pulls away from her. "Shit, he's been elsewhere?"

She nods. "To the gift shop down the street and that Chinese take-out place; at least, those are the ones I heard about. He told me that he owns the land around the corner—you know, where that derelict building used to be? Mr. Singh said his company needs to purchase this whole area for their construction project." She puts her hands on her hips. "Well why does he need property out by the highway, if that's the case?"

Jim cannot find a voice to answer with; he is disturbed.

She rubs his arm. "Anyway, it's not important, Jimmy. I won't give this place up, not for an emperor's gold! _It's my dream_ ," she says fiercely.

Kirk sags against the counter when she walks away to speak to Sulu in the kitchen.

Gaila's Khan, it seems, is determined to push into his way into Riverside. Jim realizes, too, in that moment he might be helpless to stop Khan.

~~~

Bo Peep bats at Jim's sneaker shoelaces. He picks her up, saying, "Bad kitty." She scratches him and scrambles out of his arms. Entering the living room, Spock bends down with arms open. Bo Peep practically leaps into them. She rubs her chin under Spock's, purring.

Jim sighs. He'll never be able to win with Bo Peep. Never.

Leonard, lounging next to Jim on the couch, switches the television channel. He and Jim aren't exactly easy with one another but they are on speaking terms again. Still, Jim cannot help but ask the man, "Why aren't you at Spock's?"

"Why isn't Spock at Spock's?" retorts Leonard.

"Leonard wished to collect his unclean clothes from his room. Eleanor has declared tomorrow to be a laundry day," explains Spock from somewhere in the kitchen. "I will admit, while Leonard may have had a simple reason for coming here, my motive in assisting him was quite ulterior."

Jim and Leonard both look at the dark-haired man. "Excuse me?" Leonard says loudly.

Spock feeds a pleased Bo Peep bits of tuna. "Yes?" he asks absently.

Leonard discards the remote into Jim's lap and sits up straight. "You can't say you have an ulterior motive and then not tell us what it is, Spock!"

Spock is unperturbed by the heated statement. "I assumed it would be obvious at this point."

Jim drops his head back against the couch with a long sigh. "It's because you think we're being stupid."

Leonard whips his head around to narrow his eyes at Jim. "Speak for yourself, kid."

Jim says to Spock, ignoring Leonard's glare, "See? He's got his head stuck in his ass again."

Leonard sputters and kicks at Jim's leg, no doubt unable to think of a maturer response.

"OWW FUCK! Now he's abusive! Save me, Spock!"

"Damn it, Jim, you're the one who won't talk to me!"

"Because you won't listen!"

"Not if you insult my mother!"

"She insulted me first, Bones!"

Spock puts down Bo Peep, who is startled by this action then slits her eyes in Jim's direction. She's a smart cat, Leonard often says, because she knows that Jim is the idiot out of the three of them.

Kirk and McCoy become distracted from their argument when Spock switches off the television and tells them very gravely, "Please continue. Your bickering fascinates me."

Jim wants to know, "What's so fascinating about it?"

"Each of you wishes for the other to be the first person to apologize, yet it is obvious that you are both equally sorry."

"That's a dumb conclusion," Leonard mutters, scowling and plucking off lint from his jeans.

"Is it?" ponders the lawyer. "Why is Jim at fault, Leonard?"

Bones' eyes land on the man he is annoyed with for a brief second. "I guess he isn't really... You're right about my mother, Jim. She's cordial to you because that's the way she was brought up, but I haven't actually seen her be _nice_ to you. Last time she acted like that it was to my cousin Jack."

"What did your cousin do?"

"He mowed over her prize-winning lilies." Leonard grins, probably in memory. "'Course, he did it on purpose."

Jim pouts. "So what am I being blamed for? Breathing?"

Leonard shrugs but he chews at his bottom lip, a sign of uncertainty. "I just don't know, Jim. Normally Ma makes an effort to like the people I date."

Spock advises, "Then you must ask her for an explanation."

Leonard nods silently.

Jim, who is considering tackling Spock and kissing him senseless, realizes belatedly that Spock isn't finished. The man fixes his inscrutable stare on Kirk next. "Why is Leonard at fault?" Jim is asked.

"Huh?"

Spock repeats his question. Leonard pokes Jim in the side. "Hey, I had to embarrass myself. Your turn."

Bo Peep decides to join their group. She steps daintily onto Leonard's legs from the coffee table and looks at Jim while flicking her tail menacingly back and forth. Leonard strokes the cat's fur, so she settles for hunkering in his lap and eyeballing Jim.

His reply is therefore rather distracted. "Um, Bones, um, yelled at me."

Leonard lifts at eyebrow at the same time Spock does. "Since when is that unusual?" questions McCoy.

Jim admits, "It's not. Except I didn't deserve it last time."

"You called my mother a bitch."

Jim winces. "I said she was acting like a bitch. There's a difference."

"Jim," Leonard says seriously, "she isn't the nicest person sometimes, but she's my mother." He adds, voice painfully quiet, "She's the only person who supported me when the rumor spread about Spock and me after the trial."

Jim concedes, "Okay, I'm sorry. I guess I wouldn't react well if you called my mom a bitch either."

Bones' snort is soft. "I wouldn't dare try. She'd never feed me again."

Oh. Oh, crap. Jim hadn't considered that, and Bones' mother does make the best biscuits Jim has ever tasted. He asks anxiously, "Am I not allowed to supper if Eleanor's cooking?"

Leonard gives him a pitying look. "I'll see what I can do," he promises.

Jim would kiss Leonard, too, except Bo Peep's claws would be within range of his face. He says earnestly instead, "I love you, Bones. I swear, if I have another shitty day, I'll jog or something instead of fighting with your mom."

Leonard asks, concerned, "Why was your day shitty?" while Spock says, "Please explain."

Jim hesitates at first, because he could be overreacting if he's honest with himself, but Leonard prompts him with "C'mon. I won't laugh if it's embarrassing."

Tucking his hands under his legs, he tells them about the garage, the diner, and the man—Khan, Gaila's boyfriend, which neither Leonard nor Spock knew about until now—who wants to buy both, as well has an interest in other local Riverside businesses.

"Shit, Jim." Then Leonard folds his arms (much to Bo Peep's dissatisfaction) and says thoughtfully, "So it really might happen then."

Jim and Spock look at him with interest.

"I mean, the rumor about Derby Hospital," remarks McCoy. "Mark is good friends with the Dean of Medicine there. Some corporation called Eugenics is currently in negotiations with the Board of Directors about the purchase of the hospital. From what the dean can tell, the corp would shut the entire operation down after it's been bought. Now that you mention this Khan guy, Jim, the whole idea makes sense."

"How is it sensible to shut down a hospital?" he demands.

"Because Khan will probably build his own hospital right here in Riverside." Leonard slumps into the couch. "Christine and I looked up Eugenics—well, what we could of it. The company specializes in several areas of medical research, heavy stuff like DNA nanotechnology and stem cell. Some gene therapy. They have what they call international bases—campuses, complexes, take your pick." Leonard adds more seriously, "Research isn't where Eugenics draws the line, though. These medical campuses have practices, too; the kind you'd normally find in big cities—and that includes a multi-billion-dollar hospital on each one."

"So basically you think Khan wants to turn us into a medical capital of America?" Jim summarizes incredulously. "Holy fuck."

"To put it mildly," Leonard quips. "He's not just rich, Jim. He has to be crazy-ass rich, better than Trump rich; and where he's getting his money from... I couldn't fathom it."

"Interesting," murmurs Spock. "You realize Riverside's clinic would become obsolete, Leonard."

"Yeah. If Khan and a brand new medical campus came to town, Piper would retire. He's already said so."

Then what would happen to the rest of the clinic's staff? To Bones?

As if hearing Jim's unspoken worry, Leonard assures him, "Chances are I could get hired at the new hospital or one of the outpatient practices which gets set up." His mouth quirks. "My credentials aren't _that_ bad, you know."

"Indeed, they are exemplary," intones Spock.

Leonard looks like he can't decide if his boyfriend is being sarcastic or serious.

Spock continues. "If Leonard's theory is correct, the buyer's offers are a logical recourse since he would require an extensive site for the construction of his commercial property. In addition, should his venture to come to fruition, the benefits to the town are immense. The value of land improves, the job market grows, and overall Riverside will increase its income and thereby its support of its citizens."

Leonard nods. "Exactly. It hinges on the kind of business he wants to bring in, too. Think about Scotty's mom," he says. "Think of the resources this guy clearly pours into medical Research and Development—research for cancer? Probably. Also, too, with the build-up of the area, Scotty would have a better chance of finding a job in his field of study if he wanted to come back to Riverside to stay close to his family."

Spock agrees. "Such facilities could create opportunities which might otherwise be unavailable to Riverside."

Jim cannot argue with any of that. Nevertheless he asks, "What about the small businesses that won't survive a huge economic shift like that? Some of them have been here since before I was born."

"It is my understanding that Mr. Singh is offering compensation equal or greater than the value of those properties he wishes to buy."

"You can't put a price on sentimental value, Spock."

"Affirmative," acknowledges the lawyer. "Yet sentimental value is not likely to champion over financial hardship."

Jim rubs his face. "What would happen if Mom refused to sell the diner? Would he simply build around it?"

Spock's answer is solemn. "I doubt so, Jim." And Spock would know. He works for a law firm that caters to big business as opposed to the individual—something Spock has never been particularly happy about.

Who could protect Winona Kirk from a giant like Eugenics Corp. if Khan is determined to have her land?

It is Bones' tentative "Jim, even if you had to give up the Enterprise, this could be the chance of a lifetime for a lot of folks. Consider the potential impact—better pharmaceuticals, better treatments, better patient care..." McCoy trails off but the hope is in his eyes is as clear as day.

Spock muses aloud, "Does the good of the many outweigh the good of the few?"

There is not an answer Jim could give either way, he knows, that would not betray someone he cares about. So he remains silent.

~~~

“What in the hell is that?”

Jim stops what he is doing (fiddling with the radio dial) to stand next to Jose at the opening of the garage. He says dryly, “It’s a limo, man.”

Jose mutters something derogatory about his employee. “I know what it is, _chico_.” He gives Jim a little push in its direction. “Go tell them we don’t work on limos.”

“What about the shitty economy and ‘take any job we can get’?”

Jose simply says, “Do it” and walks back into the garage.

Sighing, Jim tucks a dirty rag into a back pocket of his overalls and approaches the limousine’s passenger-side window in the front. He taps on the glass.

The black-tinted window rolls down. Before Jim can get a word in edge-wise, the driver (black cap and black shades) says in a flat voice, “James Tiberius Kirk?”

He blinks. “Uh, yeah.”

“Get in, Mr. Kirk. Her Ladyship requests your presence.”

… No. No way. Apparently he uttered these words, because the driver repeats his last sentence.

Jim says adamantly, “Uh-uh. Nope. I’m done with that old woman.” He does a quick about-face and trots back to the garage.

Oh shit. Lady Q is after him again. Okay, so she’s sent him odd little notes in the mail from time to time, but they were harmless. Irregular thoughts of a crazy old woman; things like _Remember the peas and carrots, my dear_ and once, close to the Fourth of July, a party invitation he declined (for himself, Bones, and Spock) because she had labeled her gathering as a _celebration of the true liberation of this country—a secret of the Q which must never be revealed_. He hadn’t taken the bait then and he has no intention of doing so now.

A car door opens and slams shut. “Mr. Kirk,” calls an ominous voice. “Her Ladyship requests your presence.”

“What are you, a robot?” he shoots over his shoulder. Pick up the pace, Kirk, or…

Jose comes out of the garage with a wrench in hand. “Is there a problem?”

Jim hastily scurries towards Jose and not-quite situates himself behind the man's back.

The driver—much larger in person once standing upright than sitting down—pauses. “I am here for James Tiberius Kirk.”

Jose eyes the man. “Why?”

“The Lady—her Ladyship wishes for his company. At this present time,” adds the man—Q, Jim supposes.

Jose seems to consider this news. “What’s she want?”

“That is not known to me.”

“Last time your Lady wanted Jim, she let the whole town think he’d been kidnapped and killed. Kinda makes me not trust her, you understand.”

The Q is silent for some seconds. “Is Mr. Kirk required to have your permission to visit with her Ladyship?” He says this in such a way that Jim realizes the man isn’t antagonizing Jose but genuinely interested in the answer. Apparently this idea is standard Q protocol. Jim should have known.

Jim tries to say, “Jose isn’t my—"

Jose cuts into his protest with “I’m his boss, so I’ve got a right or two. Assure me of his well-being and I might let him go.”

Jim gapes at Jose.

The Q nods. “I give you my word of honor that no harm will come to James Tiberius Kirk among the Q. The Lady Q has declared it so. He will be returned to his place of living before nightfall. Her Ladyship does not intend to keep him; to do so would not aid her cause.”

Jose lowers his wrench. He turns to Jim. “Good enough.”

“But I don’t want to.” He isn’t quite whining like a young child.

“Don’t you owe her? That’s what you told me.”

Yes he does. For the sakes of Pavel and Sasha, who might have been removed from Riverside and placed in an unpalatable situation without the intervention of Lady Q.

“Fine,” Jim says, "but call my house tonight. If I don’t pick up, freak out.”

“I’ll do you one better—I’ll get your mama and her shotgun.”

Jim smiles and slaps Jose on the back, suddenly not worried at all. He ignores the stoic Q driver and strides to the tail-end of the limo. “There had better be a bar back here,” he warns the world at large.

Sadly, there is not; so Jim settles for annoying the driver through the speaker system built into the car. “I want some music. _Musique. Musica!_ ” Then, “Fuck, that’s awful. Find me some rock ‘n roll, please.” A minute later. “Hey, how’s your singing voice?”

The driver seems rather glad to dump him at the front of the Q compound.

~~~

" _James!_ "

For a split second, Jim is fearful that Lady Q is going to grab him and kiss him. He backs up. She keeps closing in like a steam-roller, skirts flouncing. The old woman jerks to stop within a few inches of him, produces her infamous fan from nowhere, and whaps him with it.

Jim rubs his stinging shoulder. "Damn it, what was that for?"

She frowns. "You, dearest, have spent too much time in the company of that doctor of yours. 'Damn it' is not an appropriate profanity in the presence of the fairer sex."

"What should I say instead?" he asks curiously.

Her eyes light up. "You must exclaim _Blast And Damnation!_ "

How, exactly, is damnation different than damn, since one is a shortened version of the other?

She continues on. "Or, when equally frustrated but in a dangerous situation, to which the man must implicitly assure the female of his reliability to protect her— _Back, you scurvy dogs!_ "

That... is complete off-topic. And pirate-scary. What era does her brain live in? he wonders. Does it skip around? He decides it is better to smile and nod. Which Jim does, with fervor.

The joy in Lady Q's face suddenly melts away. She slides her arm through his and gives him a gentle tug over to a settee.

"My James," she begins in a heavy tone, "I have asked for your presence in these trying times as a comfort to myself. Will you not humor an old woman and listen to her woes?"

Is he supposed to say no? He doesn't have the heart to, anyway. They sit down together. She places her hand in his because he is not competent enough to realize a gentleman acts thus. (She mutters this under her breath; Jim almost rolls his eyes heavenward but knows from experience that he would get smacked by the fan again if he did.)

"There is a scoundrel afoot."

Jim starts at this announcement. "Huh?"

"James, pay attention," she says with exasperation. "Even that Scott character was more attentive while in my company, flighty though he may have been when fiddling and biddling with lightning-energy-powered-things..."

"Electronics," Jim supplies.

She ignores his correction. "...and objects that... _beeped_." She says the last word with clear distaste. "I repeat _there is a scoundrel afoot!_ "

Jim's stomach drops somewhere to the vicinity of his shoes. The last time she had talked of scoundrels—which by her definition were unworthy Q's and greasy lawyers like Mudd—Jim ended up in the hospital. He tries to shove back unpleasant memories. He says with a dry mouth, "What does that mean?"

Lady Q narrows her eyes at him and pops open her fan to wave it languidly in front of her face. "Are you acting deliberately obtuse today, my boy?"

"No, of course not," he says quickly. "I just don't understand why you want to tell me about the scoundrel."

"There is also a woman—"

Jim closes his eyes, wishing hard.

"—of your acquaintance who associates with the scoundrel."

Wishing doesn't work, he guesses. She means Gaila and Khan. "That's none of my business," he tells Lady Q.

"Khan Noonien Singh," she pronounces slowly, overriding Jim. "Mr. Khan Noonien Singh, whom I am told is an absurdly wealthy foreigner from the bowels of Botany Bay—truly, who seeks their fortune in Australia but the lawfully condemned and disinherited?—" she rants, and Jim is now certain her brain mixes up recorded history and present day quite naturally. "—and an entrepreneur of the worst kind, is _afoot_ , James, and you must stop him."

"No," Jim says sharply, jerking away from Lady Q and pacing to a window and back. "This has nothing, _nothing_ , to do with me and you know it. Keep me out of your schemes."

"You are aware of what Khan intends to do in Riverside. I can see the knowledge in your eyes. Dear, he is not here to _help_ or _enrich_ as he claims. He wishes to commandeer—"

Jim rounds on her, frowning at her word choice, but she refuses to submit to his displeasure.

"— _commandeer_ ," she repeats, "your city for the birth of his vision."

"Hospitals and medical research centers mean more revenue, Lady Q," he argues back. "More jobs. A better quality of life for everyone."

"Yes, there are gains. But have you considered the losses as well?" She closes her fan and lays it gently in her lap. "What happens to the unique culture of Riverside? When Khan joins a neighborhood, those neighbors who do not adhere to his standard of life are not welcome. He moves in; they must move out or be absorbed into a new world." She points to a side table. "There is proof, James. Riverside would not be the first victim of this man."

Jim's body betrays him. He is reaching for the folded paper before he is aware of what he is doing. It's a pamphlet. He reads through it, seeing not a city proclaiming the finest medical arts but a white-washed, spartan environment.

"Is this the campus?" he asks, looking through the different photographs.

"It is an entire city, reformed under Khan's rule."

"You make him sound like a dictator."

"When a man owns the heart of a city, what is the rest but an extension of its ruler?"

Jim glances up at Lady Q. "The pamphlet makes it sound like a resort."

"Why of course it does. The city is safe, clean, and rich. Free of the day-to-day troubles of life. A utopia!" she says, clapping her hands for emphasis. Then her expression falls. Lady Q leans toward Jim, intent. "But tell me, James, where are the less-than-stellar people? The common criminals and the hoodlums and the poverty-stricken? The... disobedient?"

"It's a big city," he says lamely. "They're there."

Her small smile is enigmatic. "Perhaps."

"I don't understand what you want from me," he says at last.

"Meet Khan. Befriend him. Learn about him at the source. Then come to me and report."

"I may be curious about him but I am not a spy, Lady Q, and you are not a secret government."

Lady Q re-opens her fan. “Yes, dear," she says complacently, "though I must say you have failed to ask the most important question of all: Why?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Why has Mr. Singh chosen our Riverside as his latest project?”

Jim opens his mouth but then closes it again immediately, having no answer. At length, he finds himself agreeing to do as she asks.

Lady Q produces a tiny bell from the folds of her gown (there have to be pockets Jim can't see hidden about her person) and rings it. A Q enters the drawing room, bowing and holding out a garment. Jim takes one look at it and groans. The old woman rises from her makeshift throne and hassles Jim until he puts it on. The blue doublet is both ridiculous and familiar.

She tells him, immensely satisfied, "Now you are attired to begin your task, James Tiberius Kirk. You shall meet your enemy with the grace of a true Captain!"

Yup. Captain Kirk. That's Jim all right.

The Q behind her Ladyship applauds dutifully. Jim for his part (after turning about to show off his dashing figure per Lady Q's instructions) merely sighs in resignation.


	5. Part Five

They are arguing. Jim hears them the moment he steps onto the porch of Spock's house, motorcycle helmet in hand. Who knew Bones and Eleanor sounded so much alike when they raised their voices? Bones' mother is a fiery female cadence of Bones' enraged drawl.

Jim has a sinking feeling the two McCoys are fighting about him; he also thinks—no, _knows_ in his very gut—that tonight nothing is going to go as planned. He hopes, however, that something can be salvaged and no one will come away too emotionally sore.

Hopes and fears—for Jim, his fears almost always win over his hopes.

Jim enters the family living room just in time to see Bones storm out the sliding glass door leading to the back patio of the house. The echo of an angry "Goddamn it! Just stop, won't you!" followed by a knife-sharp, remonstrating " _Leonard Horatio McCoy!_ Get back here!" greets Jim.

Paused awkwardly in the archway between the hall and living room, Jim is about to backpedal and take a long detour to the garden (where Bones will storm to, he knows) when Eleanor catches sight of him.

Her face is lined with anger but her eyes speak of desperation. "Are you satisfied?" she snaps at him out of nowhere.

He shouldn't respond, _shouldn't_ , but his mouth is always one step ahead of his brain. "Satisfied? Why?" Jim steps fully into the room, sets his helmet in a chair, and drapes his jacket over the chair's back.

That is all the rope she needs to hang him with, apparently. "Don't play dumb with me, Jim. You know good and well what this is about!"

 _Now_ she wants to use his first name. That sparks something within Jim, something that she only saw a glimpse of when he had had a bad day and told her, ill-tempered and fed up, to stop acting like a bitch.

"Actually, I don't," he says in a hard voice. "What did you do to piss off my boyfriend?"

In the back of his mind, he acknowledges that he sounds like his mother in a snit—and that both scares and thrills Jim.

Eleanor doesn't need much prodding at this point; she is already riled to go a round or two with him. "Don't you dare take that tone with me!"

"I am _not_ your son."

"Because the Lord is kind! I wouldn't _want_ you for a son—and I don't want you in my family!"

Score to her for neatly and bloodlessly ripping out a chunk of his heart. He tries to shake off the aftereffects and come in from another angle. "Don't you at least owe me the courtesy of an explanation? Why do you hate me so much, Eleanor?"

Her lips pinch together for a moment (Bones does that, Jim thinks absently). Eleanor's tone is too soft. "You know what you are doing to my son—you have to _know_. How could you not? And I hate you for that."

Frustrated, he almost yells "I'm not doing anything to Bones!" but holds it in at the last second because an unexpected thought occurs to him that overrides everything else. He looks around, face paling. "Where's Joanna?"

Eleanor shudders, a momentary breach in the thick wall of rage fortifying her. Her words are clipped, if somewhat strangely and suddenly bleak, as though fighting weighs on her. "Spock had the sense to take her out for a drive. Leonard—and I—wouldn't... Joanna was traumatized quite enough by her parents' divorce. She doesn't need to see how truly dysfunctional her family is."

He closes his eyes briefly in relief. "Thank God."

"I want the best for my son and granddaughter. That _Jocelyn_ —" The way Eleanor practically spits the name of her ex-daughter-in-law is slightly terrifying. "—was so difficult; to convince her to allow Joanna to come out here and visit her father cost a great deal of everyone. It won't happen a second time."

Jim swallows. "You can't know that."

"I do!" she says fiercely. "And you know what that will do to my boy. Leonard can't _stay here_ and keep Joanna too." She ends with a bitten-off cry and an agitated gesture that Jim has seen Bones make when ridden hard by helpless frustration. "I've tried to tell him," she insists, "over and over again but he won't listen to me! He won't leave this damn town!" Bitterness flavors her last words.

Jim really shouldn't be so amused that she curses. He shouldn't.

He is.

Punching down an inopportune giggle (one that might get him smacked soundly by a heavy-laden purse, he imagines), Jim stiffens his spine and breathes deeply. If Kirk wasn't so certain that Bones' mother would hate him for it, he would offer her a comforting hug. The older woman's normally prim and cool facade is cracking and they both know it. Jim has caught a flash of how sick and worried Eleanor is before her iron control reasserts itself, which she won't like.

He admits, "I don't want Leonard to leave Riverside."

"I don't want Joanna to grow up without her father," she counters flatly. "I know he's happy here, and I thank God that he isn't—isn't like he was when he left Georgia. I didn't stop him from going because I understood he had to get away or he would never heal. Spock promised me," she says, so unexpectedly earnest that Jim's heart skips a beat, "he would look after my son. But Leonard was going to come back home. He was _supposed_ to come back."

"Eleanor," Jim barely manages around the strange something hampering his voice, "I'm sorry."

And he feels sorry and guilty, just for brief second, that Leonard happened upon Riverside, met Jim, and decided to stay. Then those feelings pass quickly because, above all else, Jim accepts that he is selfishly grateful his Bones is still with him.

Jim's apology, however well-meant, only serves to revive Eleanor McCoy's anger. She flushes, no doubt interpreting his "I'm sorry" as pity, and her words come out in a rush: "YOU. I don't know who you think you are, James Kirk, but I'll certainly tell you who you aren't—and that's the right person for my boy! You're no good for Leonard!"

He would have preferred a slap to the face.

"If Leonard loses his daughter, you'll have to live with that. And believe me, Mr. Kirk, there is no one on God's green earth who can replace that little girl!"

"It's not my fault!" Jim shouts back, fists balling. "I didn't break his heart or take his daughter away! I didn't force him to come here. But I did fall in love with him, and you can't expect me to just let him go."

Oh God, _lose Joanna_. He won't let Bones lose Joanna. He won't. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

They face each other, two people who love Leonard McCoy down to the core of their beings, trembling with the force of their emotions. Neither is willing to yield an inch to the other.

Jim tells his boyfriend's mother, "I swear, I won't abandon your son—but that also means I won't let him abandon me, not unless he asks me to."

"Leonard's as foolish as you are" is her grim reply, "and he'll lose everything because he is foolish."

Then Eleanor places a hand over her mouth, a clear signal that she has nothing further to say, nor will say, and turns away from Jim.

Jim won't embarrass her by watching her struggle not to cry. He won't embarrass himself either, not here. He picks up his jacket from across the back of the chair and leaves, uttering not a word. He doesn't slam a door on his way out. The argument ends wrapped up in silence because it is too momentous for sound.

~~~

Being out in the open helps. Jim drives his motorcycle carelessly from one highway to the next, needing the wind in his face. He left his helmet at Spock's and cannot seem to care, much less force himself to turn back for it.

Where to go? Where?

He has no destination in mind and isn't certain if he is attempting to escape or find one. None of that matters, however—the wind is drying the un-shed tears in his eyes and the cold air catches in pockets beneath his unzipped jacket, chilling Jim until he is blissfully numb.

He knows he cannot ride on forever so after spying a familiar crossing to his right, Jim turns onto a new road. It's late enough that he can get lost in the haze of a smoky bar until the need to drive again urges him out onto the highway. Jim's plan is this: when dawn comes, he will be absolutely exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally; then he will go home. He won't be able to think, only sleep.

It's a place to start.

~~~

The bar looks and smells the same as he remembers it. Jim has been on this one stool for approximately thirty minutes with his booted feet propped against the lower rung and his back beginning to ache from an improper slouch. He is currently nursing his second beer when the last person he wants to see appears and digs her nails into his shoulder.

"Not out with the hubbies?" queries Marlena with a smirk and a flip of her hair.

Jim keeps drinking his beer.

"Ah," she says knowingly. "So what are you lookin' for, honey? Commiseration party or just someone to fuck?"

"If I wanted either," he says as he smacks his beer onto the bar counter, "I wouldn't ask you." He occupies himself with mopping at the condensation along the outside of the glass bottle with a small paper napkin. After a moment, Jim cuts his eyes at her. "Still here, Marlena?"

She retracts her hand from his shoulder and for a split second Jim thinks she is going to slap him. But her face clears of black anger and her usual malicious expression returns.

"You are _pissy_ tonight, Jimmy baby. Dare I guess that your little domestic arrangement isn't working out so well? C'mon, you can tell me. I am the soul of discretion!"

That doesn't even warrant a response.

Because Jim knows her, he can tell Marlena's smile is not friendly at all—more like a shark's grin before it snatches its prey. Marlena wants some kind of information to hang him by, and she isn't afraid to lie, seduce, or steal to get it if she can. He wonders if the chip on her shoulder is because of Trelane's sudden and mysterious departure from Riverside, or if she just hates him that much.

Wordless, he gets up, beer in hand, and moves down to the opposite end of the bar. Marlena, left standing on her own, fumes for a moment before she turns and stalks away, disappearing into the crowded dance floor of the bar.

Jim sits down at an empty stool without paying much attention to the man on his left. Not paying much attention, that is, until a voice says with a hint of dry humor, "She seems pleasant. Friend of yours?"

"Definitely not," Jim practically snorts into his beer. Twisting at the waist, Jim has his hand held out in greeting (it's only polite after all and maybe if he's engaged with someone Marlena won't make a second attempt to pester him) but stops short of "I'm Jim." Instead, he stares like an idiot.

Khan Noonien Singh allows the shock of silence to stretch between them for a few seconds then lightly but firmly shakes Jim's proffered hand. He asks sharply, "Do I know you?" no doubt guessing that Jim knows him.

Jim figures some of the truth is safer than none. "I, uh, work at Jose's Auto Shop. I saw you leave after you... talked with the owner." He almost said _propositioned_ , which would have been a poor choice of wording to start a fruitful conversation.

"Ah," says Khan, the tension in his shoulders easing back a notch. "I suppose you now regret selecting a seat without first observing your potential neighbors. You have my word I shall not be offended," he remarks with a curve of his mouth, "if you wish to relocate."

The mild but intent look on Khan's face asks a question that Jim finds himself answering instinctively, no other options considered. "James Kirk," he introduces himself, "and I won't leave. I have some pride left." He admits so ruefully.

"Mr. Kirk," Khan returns. "Well met. I am Khan Noonien Singh. You may, of course, address me plainly, as Khan. You and I, we have no need to stand upon ceremony under such conditions." His short gesture indicates the midnight-crowded bar around them. Khan then signals the bartender. "Would you care for a stronger drink? I enjoy brandy. The flavor of a fine brandy is robust, if properly made, and delightful to the senses. Much like wine."

Bones would love this kind of romanticism about liquor. Jim takes a healthy swallow of beer to quell the sharp pain in his breast at the thought of Bones. "No thanks, beer's good."

"You may change your mind" is Khan's answer. To the thirty-something bartender, "Another cognac."

Jim watches the bartender refresh Khan's drink and frowns at the label of the brandy bottle. Pricey—and not the usual brand of drink served here. "Hey, Cupcake," he says aloud, earning a mean look from the bartender, "where have you been hiding the quality liquor?" Jim brought Bones here once, watched his boyfriend take a sip of the house bourbon, and promptly choke on it, griping that it tasted like old bootlaces. Bones had shoved the barely touched drink away and ordered a beer like Jim.

Cupcake—who has no great love for James Kirk, not since that bar fight years ago when Jim got dumped headfirst into a shelf of Cupcake's meticulous array of drinking glasses—eyes Jim with intense dislike as he screws the cap back onto the brandy bottle. "This ain't business stock," he tells his nosy customer. After carefully placing the refilled tumbler in front of Khan, Cupcake adds, "Belongs to this fellow. I just get paid to pour it." And that, it seems, is the extent of conversation the man wishes to have with an upstart troublemaker who calls him Cupcake.

Jim looks at Khan, incredulous. "You brought your own booze to the bar?"

"If no one is obliging, a man must cater to his preferences himself. Does this strike you as unusual, Kirk?"

Actually Jim has the distinct impression that Khan seeing to his own comforts wherever he goes is very much ordinary—for Khan. What is strange is that a rich man like Khan would deign to patron a backyard watering hole, especially this shabby and homely bar of Cupcake's. But to say so would be rude, of course. Some of the manners Jim's mother tried to teach her son did stick after several thumps upside the head.

Jim shrugs, keeping his thoughts tucked away in his head and not en route to his mouth.

Khan continues to observe him. Jim's eyes skip around the dimly lit bar looking for a quick escape, should one become necessary. Except he cannot justifiably walk away from this opportunity when Lady Q has faith he will play spy for her. There is also the small matter of Jim's growing need to make sense of his life and all the obstacles therein, Khan factoring largely as one of those obstacles.

His options are limited, then. Jim settles for a disarming grin. "So... what are you planning to do with Riverside once you buy it up?"

Khan laughs, exposing a flash of white teeth in a tanned face. "Excellent! A man who does not bother to dissemble. You impress me."

"Well, we could dance around the white elephant in the room but I'm terrible at the rumba."

Spock's eyebrows would shoot up in response to Jim's mixed metaphors; Bones would simply look on in amusement and then challenge Jim with a better (in Bones' opinion, that is) set of Southern euphemisms.

Khan is neither Spock nor Bones. The man ignores Jim's humorous appeal altogether and presents his business card to Kirk.

"What kind of company is Eugenics?" Jim wants to know, skimming the card and not entirely feigning his ignorance.

"Many persons believe I am in the business of medical evolution. Personally, I find the description lacking the basic truth of my Eugenics' mission. We seek to empower Man: to reform what the world has grown accustomed to and reset our standard of being—to _challenge_ what we, as humans, are with the intention of improving the natural state of our species."

"Revolution," murmurs Jim, turning Khan's card over in his fingers.

"Yes," Khan agrees quickly, almost eagerly. "I can see you understand the difference. Most do not—or will not." His expensive brandy sits forgotten to the side. Khan's gaze flicks past Jim to a noisy couple fighting in a booth along the opposite wall. "We are born commoners, Kirk—every last man on this planet. Our potential is suppressed by the banality of day-to-day living. I ask you, why should we not be born kings instead? Think of what we could be!"

Jim is fairly sure kings—and kingdoms—are a thing of the past.

Khan re-direct his gaze to Jim again, and Jim realizes that Khan's attention had never entirely wavered from him, despite appearances. "I invest in more than land, my friend," says Mr. Singh. "I invest in people."

Jim stills. "What do you mean?"

"Do you understand why you are different from your peers, Kirk?"

He shakes his head in denial, stressing, "I'm _not_ different."

"You are." Khan silences Jim with the simple gesture of raising his hand. "I do not speak of your intelligence, though it is obvious you are more intelligent than a majority of the men and women among us. Perhaps you will explain to me some day why you chose this life for yourself—in such a nondescript town—when..." He waves his own words away. "No matter, I believe in destiny. Destiny leads us to unexpected opportunities, does it not?"

Jim is beginning to realize that he should have backed away from Khan when he had the chance.

"I will tell you why I noticed you, James Kirk. You came here to dull your thoughts with alcohol, like so many of these people tonight; unlike them, however, you are careful, not indulgent to the point that you lower your guard. You never cease to observe your surroundings. Before that woman touched you, you tensed. You could not see her yet you tensed. You are always alert, always on edge. _Why?_ "

Khan is too astute for his own good. Jim doesn't like to hear such things about himself, even if there is some truth in them.

"Quite simply, it is what you are, Kirk." Khan almost sounds smug in his assessment. Turning in his chair, he motions in another direction. "Then there is the man in the far corner, who has idled there for some time. I saw his face when he looked at you; I saw your face when you first noticed him. He hates you. You pity him for his hate. He is on his fourth beer and is impaired enough by now to antagonize you but does not. Again, I ponder why... but I know that answer, too."

Jim's shoulders tighten at the mention of Frank Rand sitting across the room. He thinks he feels Rand's eyes on his back at that very moment, no doubt which they are. Frank was here when Jim arrived. Neither of them have made a move to tangle. Frank won't because he would be locked up in a heartbeat by his former boss, Sheriff Komack. Jim won't because, as Khan said, he has no spiteful feelings towards Frank—only pity and a small, hard knot of mistrust that he doubts will ever go away.

"The answer lies within those who are not afraid to approach you," continues Khan doggedly. "How many people have greeted you since you arrived?"

Jesus, has Khan been counting? Jim tightens his hold on his beer, uneasy. "It's a small town," he argues. "I know everybody, and I'm a friendly guy." His friendliness is something he is beginning to regret.

"Perhaps..." says Khan in a slow, accented rumble. "Perhaps not. I have noticed people do not simply greet you. They want your advice, ask you to settle their disputes, or seek out assurance that you will acknowledge them. Most intriguing, Kirk, most intriguing. Were you older, I would surmise that you are a leader of the Riverside community, possibly Mayor or Chief of the police. Since you are too young to hold a political position—"

Jim frowns.

"—I can only assume you _will_ be such a man one day."

"No way!" he blurts out, astonished by the idea.

Khan ignores his outburst. "Therefore you are of use to me. I invest in people, Mr. Kirk, but only those who have the potential for greatness. As I am an example of such a man, I can easily sense those who are of my ilk. It would be in your interest to join Eugenics."

This... is bordering ridiculous. "I don't have an education," Jim points out, thinking of Bones' long years of schooling, residency, and practice and how McCoy would most likely jump at an offer like this. But for Jim it makes no sense. He sighs. Only with his schizo-luck could a meet-and-greet with a man in a bar turn into a job interview.

"A formal education is unnecessary. You will learn as you progress in the program. Adaptation is, of course, the part which we wish to study most: how might a man with natural gifts of intelligence and leadership ability become superior in every way possible?"

"Wait," Jim interrupts sharply, "you want me as a _test subject?_ "

Khan cuts his eyes at Kirk. "If we cannot learn to shape the best of men into kings, how could we possibly hope to raise the weak to a throne some day?"

Jim pointedly waves his half-empty beer in the air to catch Cupcake's attention and drops a few bills onto the table to pay his tab.

"Look, Khan, you have some high aspirations. Congratulations, man, but I don't share them. I am happy with my 'common' condition, so I'll have to pass. Thanks for the consideration though." He tries to return the business card to the dark-suited handsome man.

"Keep it," Khan tells him mildly. "The world is—how do you Americans phrase it?—rather small. We shall meet again, James Kirk."

Jim stands up and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. Khan does not offer a farewell; neither does Jim. Truthfully, Jim knows Khan's prediction is right. He has to cross paths with Khan Noonien Singh again because he has not figured out what it is about Khan that leaves him so deeply unsettled.

The man isn't crazy, is in fact well-mannered about Jim's refusal and seemingly calm; but there is a quality to Khan's stare, in Khan's body language, that Jim can almost grasp as familiar. It isn't like the maniac switch between dispassion and glee that Trelane indulged in, or the hatred permanently embedded in Rand's eyes. It is something entirely new and frightening.

Whatever it is, it's ruthless.

As Khan must be.

Jim is cold on the inside when he swings out of the bar and into the parking lot. Going back to his apartment alone (hell, even facing Eleanor again) seems more welcoming than the thought of what lies ahead. He wants badly to find Gaila now; he is worried for her. Instead, knowing he has limited power and even more limited say-so in someone else's life, Jim aims his bike in the direction of the Q compound.

Lady Q is going to be miffed that Khan wants to buy him.

If Khan is not already aware of the Q—the Powers That Be in this region of the world—then he might find out about them very soon. Jim holds onto that thought hard as he rides through the dark of the night; but he is still cold and his troubles are still crowding around him, haunting him, until he can do nothing other than _run_.


	6. Part Six

"Jim."

Catching the faint sound of his name, Jim crosses the living room in quick strides. "Bones," he calls sharply, "what's wrong?" Perhaps the hall lighting is at fault but McCoy, standing alone in the doorway of his bedroom, is wane in appearance.

When Jim is within reach, Leonard, saying nothing, draws Jim into his arms. Jim automatically leans into the embrace, dropping his face into the crook of the man's neck. Fingers card through Kirk's short hair.

"I was worried," Bones murmurs at last. "Found your helmet at Spock's. We came lookin' for you, kid, but we couldn't find you... 'n you didn't come home last night." The tail-end of the explanation falls into a whisper.

Jim pulls back, brushing his mouth against the unshaven stubble lining the man's jaw. Jim then runs his forefinger along the crease in Leonard's forehead, trying to smooth away any lingering effects of worry. "I'm sorry, Bones. I wasn't thinking." Leonard accepts a kiss of repentance. They continue to stand close together for some minutes, each needing the comfort of the other's presence in a way that almost defies words. Finally, when Bones sighs (a sign that he is ready to let go of his fear), Jim takes his hand and walks them both into the kitchen.

"Drink?" he inquires, already digging around for a soda in the refrigerator for himself. Jim frowns when he finds none because he remembers buying a pack of two dozen not three days ago.

"I'm wired on caffeine. I didn't want to fall asleep until you came home," Leonard admits. "I think Spock hid the rest so I wouldn't OD. That overprotective igit."

Jim makes a noise of unhappiness. "He's bringing it back, right?"

Bones shrugs.

A woeful Kirk abandons his quest for soda. It wouldn't be worth looking for a packet of instant coffee either, he knows, because Spock is always thorough. Sometimes, such as now, Spock's proclivity to "save his significant others from their unfortunate habits" is annoying—on this, Jim and Leonard are in complete agreement.

"Where is he?" Jim wants to know, trying to recall if the Corvette had been in the parking lot or not.

"Spock went to the farm early this morning, just to make sure you hadn't spent the night there."

Jim stares.

_Damn._

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he resolves not to whimper, even if it's a manly whimper. "Spock won't tell Mom that I'm missing?" It's a hopeful question rather than a statement.

Leonard's eyes begin to twinkle all of a sudden and the man's innocent _who, us?_ expression is not convincing Jim to make light of the situation.

Kirk closes his eyes, resigned.

If Spock comes back with a freaked-out Winona Kirk in tow, he'll just have to scoot down the apartment's fire escape. If he is lucky, she won't come after him. There is something to be said about having a parent who cares—and something to be feared about it as well.

As if reading Jim's morose thoughts, Bones points him in the direction of the couch. "Sit," says McCoy. "We need to talk."

Last time they started a chat similar to this, in the very same place, it didn't end well. As before, Spock is absent. Jim is about to ask Leonard if he knows what is bothering Spock, simply to steer the conversation in a direction less volatile for them both, but as soon as his butt hits the couch cushions Leonard leaps straight into what he wants to say: "Ma and Joanna will be going back to Georgia next week."

This Jim knows.

"Ma wants me to go, too."

His nod is short, sharp. "I know."

Leonard bites at his bottom lip. "She said something to you last night, didn't she, Jim?"

Jim's eyes drop to his shoes, one of which he inspects at leisure.

Leonard sits down, gingerly enough like Jim is a wild animal that needs to be coaxed into a trusting relationship. "Are you going to tell me what she said?" Bones asks him, voice subdued.

Jim shakes his head. "It doesn't matter." He smiles somewhat wryly. "She was honest with me, if that counts for anything." Then Jim meets the eyes of his boyfriend and says with ease, "I love you, Bones. If you want to go with Joanna, you don't have to worry about me." Since he hasn't an inkling of what Spock thinks on the subject (and why haven't they discussed it yet? he wonders), Jim doesn't make an offer on Spock's behalf. But he hopes Spock, at least, could recite a ton of solid, unarguable reasons why Leonard should stay in Riverside, none of which would be as selfish as the ones Jim can think of.

Leonard's eyes are always kind but in them now is an emotion that prompts the fluttering of butterflies in Jim's stomach. It also hurts his heart a little, too. Bones reaches out to take ahold of Jim's hand.

"If I wanted to leave, would you come with me, Jim?"

Jim's throat works for a moment. Before yesterday, he wouldn't have thought about his answer, would have said _yes_ in an instant and done everything in his power so that they could stay together. But yesterday _did_ happen, quite irrevocably. Now Jim thinks instead of all that could happen if he chooses to walk away from Riverside. He thinks of his mother and her diner at the mercy of Eugenics Corp; thinks of his conversation with Khan; thinks of Lady Q's troubled words as they waited for a Q to come and escort Jim to his bedroom for the night.

She had said: "I am not certain what can be done. Do the Q have the resources to intervene where Khan is concerned? Yes. But does the Q have the right to do so? We are not citizens of Riverside, and it is Riverside who must decide their future." She had clutched at his hand in real distress, which had disturbed Jim down to his very core. "Oh James! _What can be done?_ "

"Bones," he answers softly, swallowing down regret, "I can't leave Riverside. Not yet." Jim almost pleads, "Ask me again, when—when we know the Enterprise is safe."

"I hope I never have to ask you." Leonard squeezes their clasped hands. "I'm going to try my best to stay. I swear it."

But Jim shakes his head. "Don't promise me that. I'd never want you to pick me over Joanna. If Eleanor's right and you have to live in Georgia to be a part of her life, then that's what I want you to do. I know we would both hate it—"

"That's an understatement," Bones mutters.

"—but we would find a way to make it work," he concludes. Then, as a joke to lighten the heavy mood, "We could make Spock pay for airfare."

Leonard sighs but there is a inkling of amusement in the sigh. "I hate to say this but Spock's disregard for the cost of things really makes me feel like a poor relation. I know he works for some of his money but..."

"Well," Jim reasons, "his family has always been wealthy." His smile sharpens into a grin. "I bet we're very educating for Spock."

"If by educating you mean _fascinating_ ," Bones mimics in a particular (Spockian) tone of voice. They snicker.

Jim leans back on the couch. "Have you talked to Spock lately? I mean, about Boston?"

The ringing of the telephone overrides Leonard's reply. McCoy gives him a look that says _hold that thought_ and gets up to answer the call. "Hello?"

Jim watches, at first curious and then knowing, when Bones' entire stance relaxes. It's either Spock or Joanna. Since Jim doesn't imagine Eleanor would let Joanna call over here, he goes with the guess of Spock.

Leonard confirms that guess with his next words: "Hey, Spock. Yeah, he's—" Then, suddenly alarmed, "—no, for God's sake, don't put her on—SPOCK!—uh, hello, Winona. Yes, ma'am. _Yes,_ ma'am."

Jim can hear the shrill of the other person on the phone from across the room. He winces at the sound of "Is he there?! JAMES TIBERIUS—" Jim automatically looks for a place to hide, only realizing belatedly that his mother cannot physically get to him from over a telephone line.

Leonard is silent for some seconds, his lips pursed as he listens to Jim's mother. Then he turns to Jim, holding the phone slightly at an angle from his ear, and tells Kirk in solemn words, "I'm to inform you that only bad sons make their mothers worry." He tilts the phone back to his ear and nods as it chirps again. "Yes, ma'am." To Jim, "She says she just spent her entire mornin' calling up your friends in town to find you. Now they're freaked out—with the kidnapping that happened and all," Leonard tacks on a side-note as though Jim's memory might be faulty. The phone rattles out something more, causing Leonard to wince. "Also, she says if you don't get your butt down to the diner in twenty minutes, she's ringing up Sheriff Komack and telling him to start an investigation."

Komack already has a permanent eye-twitch because of his past dealings with Kirk. Damn but Winona knows how to play hardball.

Jim's reply is meek, just in case her super-mother hearing is turned up to high. "I'll be there."

Leonard relays the message to the irate woman. He murmurs "Yes, ma'am" into the phone one final time before hanging up.

Jim wants to know, somewhat anxiously, "What else did she say?"

His boyfriend's smile is enigmatic and terrifying. "That last bit was for me, Jim—what I'm allowed to do to you if you try to sneak down the fire escape outside your bedroom."

Winona knows her son too well. Jim protests, deciding drama is the best course of action to save his dignity, "I would never, Bones!"

Leonard snorts. "Go on and shower. You need one."

But Jim had bathed (bath salts, bubbles, pink shampoo and all) at the Q compound a few hours ago. Of course—sniffing at his jasmine-scented arm—it could be his sweet smell that Bones finds offense. Well then, he won't be using the luxury spa products in that ruffly-decorated basket Lady Q had forced upon him as a farewell-come-back-soon gift.

Maybe his mom might take the basket as an apology?

Because Jim is still sitting on the couch daydreaming of a situation in which he isn't smacked upside the head for disappearing without a word to anyone, Bones prods at him with a finger. "Get going," Kirk is reminded. "You're down to fifteen minutes."

Which is more than enough incentive to make Jim head to the bathroom at a dead run.

~~~

A thin-lipped Winona provides Spock and Leonard each with a slice of blueberry pie and a bowl of Sulu's homemade vanilla ice cream on the side. At Jim's devastated look—in which he tears up a little and makes sad noises at his mother—she sighs and cuts him a very thin sliver of the freshly baked pie. He settles for eating his share and then moves onto Bones' ice cream (which has suspiciously been left untouched, probably because Leonard is nicer than Jim's own mother, Jim decides).

He knows better than to sneak a piece of dessert from Spock. Spock can hold a grudge for an inordinate amount of time.

After the short meal, Spock wordlessly presents Jim with a folded napkin because Jim's fingers are sufficiently sticky and Jim would otherwise lick them clean, in view of the public or not. Spock waits until Jim is done cleaning himself to remark, "I am interested to know where you spent the night, Jim."

Kirk hesitates only for a second. "At Lady Q's."

Leonard chokes on his mouthful of pie. "What the hell, kid?" The man looks incredulous, almost incensed. "Do you have pudding for brains?"

Before Jim can make a not-so-nice retort, Uhura thunks two mugs down onto the tabletop. Jim had forgotten that she likes to eavesdrop when he is in trouble with his mother. (Jim is convinced she used to get him into trouble when they were kids just to have a fun spectacle to watch.) Hands on her hips, the lovely woman exclaims, "I can't believe you went to see that crazy old woman again!"

Leonard salutes her with the mug of coffee as his hand wraps around it. The waitress nudges the other mug—steaming tea instead of coffee—in Spock's direction, which is accepted with appreciation.

Jim demands, "Where's mine?"

"You can have something to drink when you answer Leonard."

Jim is beginning to realize that there is an evil conspiracy between Leonard and Nyota.

"Look, what's the big deal? The lady is crazy, yeah, but she _likes_ me. If I continue to see her, she continues to like me."

McCoy scoffs. "By that logic, you would have accepted her party invitation for the fourth of July. Am I right, Spock?"

"Indeed. I cannot comprehend why Jim would change his opinion of Lady Q... unless he is withholding pertinent information."

Spock, Leonard, and Nyota look at Jim.

He tries not to squirm in his seat. "I _was_ at Lady Q's last night, okay?" It's best to focus on what is true. "You can ask her to confirm it if you want," he challenges.

Uhura looks like she just might do that but Leonard caves. "All right. So you were with the Q brigade. Is there any particular _reason_ why you went there or was it really just to visit?"

He answers with a sigh, cornered but not wanting to lie. "I'm... doing some top secret work for her." The ensuing silence is tantamount to a command that he continue. "But it wouldn't be top secret if I told you about it so who wants more pie?" Then, sweetly to Uhura, "Can I have some water please?"

Her glare says he is going to spill his guts (that is, tell her _everything_ ) even if she has to use a knife to make it happen. Jim is rather glad when she walks away, her tall heels tapping across the diner's tile floor. He thinks he is safe. He is wrong.

This is when Jim realizes Spock is leveling one of his faux Jedi mind-trick expressions (or lack thereof, as it is rather stoic in facade) at him; apparently Spock thinks he can discover all of Jim's secrets with a simple unrelenting stare.

Jim isn't James T. Kirk, Evasive Tactical Genius Extraordinaire, for nothing. He leans on his elbows and gives Spock his best grin. "What's up with you, Mr. Spock?"

Spock lifts an eyebrow. "Interesting. Do you assume my short-term memory functions insufficiently?"

"I'm just giving you an opportunity to change the subject."

"Then you would not care to elaborate upon your involvement with the Q?"

"Do you want to tell us what you were _really_ doing in Boston?" he counters.

After a heartbeat of silence, "I concede your point. What shall we discuss?"

"You both give me a headache," announces Leonard. He shoves at Jim who is blocking the end of their side of the booth. "Move. Bathroom break."

Jim plops back into the booth once Bones is gone. When he clears his throat—more for lack of anything else to do—Spock offers the mug of tea to him. Jim accepts it, being less finicky about germs than Bones, and takes a sip. "Thanks," he says, returning the drink to his boyfriend.

His fingers find a napkin and begin to shred it into long strips.

"You intercepted an argument between Leonard and Eleanor," Spock begins. It isn't a question.

Jim nods. "She wants Bones to go back to Georgia."

"Yes."

"Do you think she's right?"

"I do not."

Jim sits up from his slump. "Have you told Bones what you think?"

"I would not presume to influence his decision, Jim," Spock answers softly. "We are a part of his life, yes, but we can only hope that we factor into what he plans to do. If Leonard cares for us, I have no doubt that he will wish to discuss the possibilities of his future when he is ready."

"So we're shit out of luck if he wants to leave us behind."

Spock considers Jim. "Do you believe Leonard wants to leave us?"

Jim shakes his head. "No but I think we both need to be practical about the situation. He's got a great kid, Spock, and he would be crazy to give her up for the sake of living with and loving two guys. It's a fact: people can tolerate homosexual relationships but a three-way partnership? We might as well declare ourselves the newest freak-show in town. He'd have to endure a lot of crap _and_ be without Joanna." Jim is surprised by how bitter his own voice sounds. "I guess I'm saying that I would not blame him for leaving. I love Joanna—maybe not as much as he does—but I love her all the same. Even if I'm her sometimes friend, sometimes prince." His smile is softened by fondness but short-lived.

"I find myself unable to disagree."

Jim stops shredding the napkin, mainly because there is nothing left to shred. "The bottom line is: what's the most important thing to Bones?"

"Family," Spock answers without hesitation. "And I expect we are included in that category."

"Yeah," Jim says quietly, his frustration causing him to fall silent for a moment. At last he confesses, "I can't help but feel bad. I know I'm not forcing Leonard to stay here but I am partly the reason he lives in Riverside."

"Consider that Leonard's situation might have easily turned out otherwise—and not for the better. I hope you realize how important you were in helping Leonard heal. If no one had thought to engage him as you did, or pursue him as you did, he might have continued to live a restless and unsatisfactory existence. That Joanna is here," Spock concludes, "is testimony to the fact Leonard is in a salutary state of mind to welcome her."

The look in Spock's eyes is a balm to Jim's unhappiness.

Spock adds, "I am not certain I have thanked you properly. Allow me to express my gratitude now, Jim. Thank you."

Jim reaches across the table and rubs his thumb briefly over the knuckles of Spock's left hand. "Some of that credit goes to you too, Spock. Don't think that Bones or I have forgotten all that you've made possible by fighting for us both."

"Then let neither of us forget we are worthy of Leonard's affection."

Their pact is unspoken but strong.

When Leonard returns to the table, he looks between them, narrows his eyes, and wants to know, "What did I miss?"

"Nothing of great relevance," Spock replies, calming stirring his tea with a spoon. "However Jim, I believe, is ready to make a full apology to his mother."

Jim's mouth falls open. He is? No he isn't! It's not _his_ fault that she overreacted.

Leonard says gleefully, "Well this oughta brighten my day!' He waves his fork at Jim. "Now be sure to tell her that you are in the middle of a covert operation for the Q that you _can't talk about._ " He stage-whispers with a smirk, "She'll just love that."

Spock advises more practically, "Jim, might I suggest you offer your services as a cashier in the evening this weekend as recompense. She may then consider your apology to be genuine."

This is what being in a relationship with someone is about: you love them one minute and then hate them the next. Jim, certain that Spock has pickpocketed the motorcycle keys from his jacket, knows that both Bones and Spock are prepared to wait him out. So he slides out of the booth, stands and hangs his head in the appropriate _I am sorry, I am a jackass_ manner, and not-quite drags his feet towards his mother.

Behind Jim, Bones tells Spock, "See? We're good for him."

Apparently Spock needs no further clarification. His answer is simple and knowing: "Precisely."

~~~

Pavel's little sister Sasha skips through the door to the Ice Cream Shoppe, thinking of nothing but her ice cream cone to come. Jim, though also anticipating a sweet treat, stops outside the swinging door, his attention caught by a sign.

_Closing in Two Weeks. -Mgmt_

It's like a fist has been planted in his gut. Jim sucks in a sharp breath.

"Jim?"

Pavel is behind him, he remembers. With a small smile, he steps aside so that Pavel can follow Sasha into the shop. Jim reads the sign again, then walks inside. He isn't smiling at all when he looks at the familiar—and beloved—display counter. Uhura's aunt, seeing his expression, asks her husband to help the new customers and skirts around the counter.

"Jim," she says worriedly. "Oh, Jim. Didn't Nyota tell you?"

He shakes his head, mute.

She takes his hands and squeezes them. "It's all right, Jimmy—we're fine. Just retiring."

His shoulders relax somewhat. "Retiring?" he repeats, looking around. "But why?"

She laughs good-naturedly at his blatant confusion. "I'm no spring chicken, you rascal!"

He can't help but grin at that and say cheekily, "Lookin' good to me."

"Hands off the missus!" warns Uhura's uncle as he presses a second scoop of strawberry ice cream into a waffle cone. Sasha leans expectantly over the counter, hands out, to take ahold of it. She weaves around tables until she finds her favorite one and waits for Pavel and Jim to join her.

Jim follows Uhura's aunt over to the register and takes out his wallet. Pavel intervenes, however, and insists on paying for their outing this time. Because he doesn't want Pavel to feel indebted (and because Pavel is so proud of earning a decent wage) he lets Chekov pay. When the young man wants to know why Jim isn't indulging in his usual sundae, Jim says he needs a break from sugar.

Pavel gives him a funny look but does not argue. Jim waits until his pair of companions are seated and enjoying themselves then returns his attention to the owners of the Ice Cream Shoppe. He asks them seriously, "Nyota didn't want the business?"

"Her dreams are bigger than a small town can hold," Uhura's uncle explains.

"We've talked about retiring before," the older woman tells Jim, "but with costs going up..." She looks at her husband and smiles. "It's a miracle, isn't it, dear? Without _him_ , we might have never had the opportunity to let the business go without taking a financial loss."

"Him?" Him who?

She lauds, "Why, Mr. Khan!"

Her husband adjusts the glasses on his nose and mutters over the register keys. "Good man," he adds. "Gave us plenty of money for this space and then some. Gonna buy one of them RVs, we're thinking, 'n do some traveling."

Jim opens his mouth to protest, can't hardly speak for the horror making his throat tight.

"Jim! Mr. Jim!"

Sasha wants to know why he isn't sitting down. Uhura's aunt shoos Jim away. "Go on, sweetie. There's room enough for a few more memories in here. We're still open for two weeks!"

Jim trails to the back of the shop in a daze, hearing the echo of _Khan-Khan-Khan_ in his ears.

Khan really is taking over Riverside.

~~~

Days later, Janice gives Jim a cursory wave of greeting as he enters the medical clinic before she disappears around the corner of the waiting room, a patient hobbling alongside her. She isn't going to interrupt her work day to flirt with him, it seems. Then again, Janice has eased off with the flirting altogether since she learned of her father's involvement in the Trelane-fiasco—and how Frank nearly became an accessory to murder. But Jim hadn't died, which did nothing to help Frank in the eyes of his family.

Jim wonders if Janice still keeps in contact with her father.

He strolls through the waiting room and to Bones' small office. Finding it empty and guessing that Christine is out at lunch (her car wasn't in the parking lot) he spins on his heel and heads to Mark Piper's office rather than the break room. Jim spies Mark in the doorway, file folder in hand, and calls out, "Mark!"

Piper's startled look morphs into more of an assessment. "Where are you hurt, Jim?"

Kirk grins. "I'm looking for Bones."

Mark visibly relaxes. "And that's the way it should be, boy. Leonard is your designated physician. If you need fixing, you go to him!" he adds pointedly.

Jim does not believe for a second that Mark Piper would turn him away if he were truly in need of help. Jim remarks slyly, "Isn't it a conflict of interest that I'm dating my designated physician?" He pretends to be shocked when Mark raises the clipboard menacingly.

"Never could do anything with you," mutters Piper. "McCoy stepped out about an hour ago."

Jim frowns. "He never takes an early lunch." Chapel has informed Jim that once and a while Leonard can be hard-pressed to take lunch at all—which is why Jim makes a point of dragging his boyfriend away from work to eat at least twice a week.

"True," agrees the elder doctor, "but today is more of a business lunch." Mark says, "Has he told you about Eugenics?"

Jim freezes, barely managing to nod. Already, his mind is speeding away, connecting dots and drawing implications that put him in a cold sweat.

"I can't say I blame him for thinking ahead. Chances are pretty good that Eugenics will shut us down as soon as it's feasible for them to do so. If that Mr. Singh fellow is actually as smart as he thinks he is," Mark remarks genially, "he'll make a place for McCoy on his team. Our boy hasn't hit the best years of his medical career yet." Mark continues, completely oblivious to the pallor of Jim's face, "I met Leonard's little girl. A sweet little thing she is. It wouldn't hurt for Leonard to have a hefty salary and a prestigious title if he wants to fight for custody of her."

Jim's hearing might be fading in and out but that's because he suddenly doesn't feel steady at all.

Mark finally notices Jim's expression and reaches out to take Jim's pulse. "What's the matter? Do you need to sit down?"

Jim shrugs off the doctor's concern, tugging his arm out of Mark's hand. Further down the hallway, Janice comes out of an examination room and calls for Dr. Piper. Grateful for the interruption, Jim shoves his hands into his pockets and smiles tightly. "I guess I'll catch Bones at home. See you later, Mark."

He doesn't wait for a reply. When Jim steps outside of the clinic, he blows out the breath he had been holding and tucks his chin against his chest, though the weather is moderately warm and sunny. By the time he makes it back to Jose's, he realizes he has forgotten to eat lunch himself. _Doesn't matter_ , he thinks. His appetite isn't likely to come back for a while.


	7. Part Seven

Leonard never mentions the business lunch with Khan, and so Jim continues to pretend he doesn't know it happened. For a few days their lives return to a vaguely normal routine. Bones' mother does not say a word to Jim for which, considering the source of contention between them, Jim is grateful. Occasionally he feels eyes upon his back and turns around to catch Eleanor staring at him, her expression shuttered.

Leonard and Jim manage to trick Spock into helping with Joanna's farewell party. The trickery happens thus:

Eleanor had looked at her son the day previous with a feminine arch to her eyebrow and wanted to know why in the world he hadn't been shopping yet when the party was in two days, to which Bones replied sheepishly that he had been busy. (Jim thinks Bones was simply holding out for the party to magically put itself together.) Hence today Leonard decides that an expedient shopping trip is in order to purchase supplies, but he looks uncomfortable at the idea of buying pink streamers and princess party hats by himself. So Leonard recruits Jim. Jim, in turn, says there is no way he's going to ruin his carefully cultivated bachelor image (at this Bones rolls his eyes) unless Spock goes along and they all suffer the awkwardness of trying to decide between animal balloons or heart balloons.

(Leonard immediately vetoes animal balloons. Jim is secretly sad.)

Spock, who is reading the morning's newspaper on the opposite side of the kitchen table, does not make eye contact with either Leonard or Jim and expresses the pointlessness of celebrating an event which, in his opinion, makes no one happy.

Jim grins at Spock. "Aw, you're going to miss Joanna! Spock, that's so _sweet_."

Spock looks away from the paper to frown at Kirk's falsetto tone.

"Don't mock his feelings, Jim," Leonard says with an equally wide grin. "You know how hard Spock works to maintain an aloof appearance."

Spock's gaze migrates to Leonard. "I do not like to shop."

"Who does?" retorts McCoy. Automatically, "Shut up, Jim."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were going to argue that shopping can be fun."

"I was no—okay, so I was," Jim admits. "Shopping _can_ be fun, especially if I'm in charge. Remember that time at Mrs. Giotto's—"

"Fine," interrupts Leonard. "I'll be sure to tell Christine and Uhura you want to accompany them on their next excursion."

"That's evil, Bones!" Jim had meant guy-shopping, not four hours of finding fifty different ways to answer the same question of "How do I look?" He would rather crawl over broken glass than go shopping with Nyota (who takes pleasure in annoying him by doing girly things). At least Bones didn't mention Gaila's penchant for shopping. Jim shudders, having only one—but very memorable, and not in a good way—experience of that.

By this point in their bantering, Spock hoists the newspaper up like a shield.

Jim is not going to let him win, not this time. He leans over the table and pokes the paper with a syrup-covered fork (and idly remembers how delicious Bones' pancakes had been).

"Spock." Poke poke. "Spock!"

"I do not care to accompany you," intones the man from behind his barricade.

"It's for _Joanna_ ," Jim stresses. "You know, the little girl who says you are her favorite uncle of all time?"

The newspaper twitches.

"Don't bother him," says Leonard, joining in with a sly look to rival Jim's. "If his answer is no, that's fine." Then, with a heavy sigh, "I guess I'll just have to tell Joanna that her Uncle Spock didn't want to help, even though the party is supposed to be a present from all three of us."

The paper droops. A hesitation. "When my mother buys a gift, she adds my father's name to the accompanying card. Is this not an acceptable custom in America?"

Leonard drawls, "Maybe if we were married—which we aren't."

Spock seems to contemplate this answer seriously.

Jim, ignoring the funny tickling in his stomach, chimes in. "Don't worry about it, Spock," he announces cheerfully as he pushes back from the table and stands up. "Bones and I will take care of everything."

The lawyer folds his paper precisely along the creases and sets it aside. "I will drive," he tells them both.

Score one to the boyfriends. Jim gives Bones a thumbs-up when Spock's back is turned. Next comes wheedling Spock out of the car and into the store for the actual shopping. Jim is certain he can come up with a good plan for that.

He intends not to worry one iota about his troubles for the rest of the day. Khan, Eleanor, Lady Q—all of it be damned. Time with Bones and Spock is to be enjoyed.

~~~

On the day of Joanna's party, Jim wakes up to find Bones pressed against his back and snoring lightly in his ear. He had fallen asleep in the unoccupied guest bedroom after a long night of playing charades with Joanna, her father, and "Uncle" Spock. The warmth is nice, and Jim almost drifts back to sleep but his bladder protests in an aching fashion. He gently lifts up the arm draped his waist, slides free of the bed, and pads to the bathroom. Jim is more awake by the time he finishes his morning grooming (peeing and a quick splash of water on his face) and leans on the door frame to admire the man still asleep in the bed.

Yesterday the more items they gathered for the party, the more morose McCoy became until he was in a sour, silent mood. His daughter, of course, had turned his mood around with her chattering and hugs and general wonderful self. But Jim thinks that some of that unhappiness will return today.

And why shouldn't it? Bones is losing his daughter again.

Not for good, of course, but with her school schedule and Jocelyn's determination to make Leonard miserable...

Jim hates thinking about how long it might be before Bones sees her again. He sighs, rubs his face, and goes looking for Spock. The man is always up with the sun.

Spock isn't in his bedroom, or the kitchen, or the living room. When Jim heads out onto the patio, which he realizes he should have done to begin with since Spock has a ritual of drinking his morning cup of tea outside, he stops in surprise.

Spock peers down at him from the chair he is standing on and inquires, "Does the banner appear to be straight?"

Jim blinks, nods.

Spock ties a knot in the string, observes his handiwork with a critical eye, and steps down from the patio chair.

Jim says, "Spock, man, this looks great."

And the patio does. Just like he had imagined it might for a young girl's entertainment. Spock has tied balloons to the iron railing skirting the patio and crisscrossed multicolored streamers from the roof-overhang. There is a long rectangular table in lieu of the small usual table and the grill is set-up a safe distance from the patio. He has even secured the pinata. (Jim insisted no kid's party could be complete without one.)

Spock accepts Jim's praise with a lift of his eyebrow. He gestures to a bag of confetti. "I am uncertain what must be done with this, however."

Jim isn't either. Bones had tossed it haphazardly into the shopping cart. "I don't know. Toss it over the bushes?"  
He looks around speculatively.

"That," Spock summarizes, "would be environmentally hazardous—and impossible to clean."

Jim shrugs. Spock places the unopened bag back to the side.

They decide that there are no other preparations to be done for the party that can be done. Jim rolls his shoulders and announces his need for a cup of coffee. The kitchen, when they arrive, is occupied. Eleanor is cooking breakfast at the stove and says from over her shoulder as they enter, "Good morning, Spock. Jim."

Jim opens his mouth to return the greeting on instinct, only realizing belatedly that she spoke to him without prompting. Thereafter, his words fall away in surprise. He trudges hesitantly over to the coffee maker and sets about getting it going, all the while eyeing Bones' mother like she have turned into an eight-foot monster. Eleanor hums as she cooks. He is utterly confounded. After a while, Kirk gives up on his quest to figure her out.

The telephone installed on the kitchen wall rings. Jim answers it, thinking it might be his mother who would be at the diner by now (and who might need reassuring it's okay if she misses the party—Sulu and Pavel, too), but a strange voice says, "Mr. Spock, please."

He hands the phone to Spock.

"Hello? Yes, I will hold."

Jim is less interested in his coffee than in Spock's conversation. When Spock begins talking to someone, he listens in (at least to the one-sided part he can hear) shamelessly. The sudden, professional change of tone is a major clue. Must be the firm from Boston. By why would they call on a Saturday? Why would someone even be on the clock?

"Yes, I understand. Please forward me the itinerary. I look forward to our meeting."

Jim is dying to know, "What's going on? You sounded surprised."

"I am," Spock admits. "One of the senior partners is arriving in Riverside this afternoon."

" _What?_ " A simultaneous exclamation—from Jim and Eleanor.

"Oh dear," Eleanor adds, wiping her hands on her apron. "How manner-less of them to tell you this on such short notice!"

"Spock, should we be worried?" Because now Jim _is_ worried.

Spock answers, "I doubt so. It seems the trip is business-related."

In Riverside? Jim and Eleanor look at one another, apparently both of them trying to make sense of the idea.

"Well," Eleanor asks, "what can we do to help?"

"I will offer lodgings." Spock turns away. "I should prepare the other guest bedroom." Not Joanna's, not Eleanor's, but the third one.

Smart and necessary, Jim thinks. He doubts Spock's boss is going to like the look of the Star Motel.

"Jim, can you finish frying the bacon? I will see to the room, Spock. I just washed a set of bedsheets." Eleanor's tone brooks no argument.

Jim says, because he feels like he should warn her, "Bones is asleep... He might not want to get up."

"Don't you worry about that," calls the woman as she exits the kitchen. "There was a time when it took nothing short of banging two pots together to rouse that child out of bed."

Jim wants to hear that story. He really does.

When he peers at the skillet and pulls out a fork from the silverware drawer, Spock intervenes.

"She said I'm supposed to cook the bacon," Jim argues.

Spock refuses to let go of the fork. "You may supervise" Kirk is told. When Jim moves closer to the stove, Spock adds pointedly, "From over _there_."

So Jim shuffles back to the kitchen table like a rejected puppy—which earns him the first two pieces of cooked bacon.

Ha, Jim thinks to himself as he munches happily on the food, little does Spock know how cunning a Kirk truly is!

~~~

People begin to arrive for the party around noon. Joanna is thrilled; after all, she is the one who had insisted that small parties were boring and if lots and lots of people (didn't matter if she knew them or not) wanted to join celebrate her, they were welcome to do so.

Uhura arrives with Scotty, whom she had cajoled into coming back to Riverside for the weekend to be her date. Somehow Jim doesn't think Scotty had to be cajoled overly much to agree. Kirk is starting to gather that Uhura's fascination with Scotty may not be one-sided. It's definitely a situation to consider when he has spare time.

At the moment, however, there is no time to spare whatsoever. Joanna rushes past Jim and grabs a hold of the gift bag in Nyota's hand, _then_ hugs the smiling woman and thanks her for coming. Uhura introduces the child to her companion Montgomery Scott. Joanna gives Scotty a once-over, curtsies, and asks, "Are you Miss Nyota's boyfriend?"

Scotty turns red.

Leonard, chuckling, joins their group and firmly extracts the gift bag from his daughter. She pouts, her father ignores her, and she half-stomps, half-skips away, annoyed that she couldn't peek into the bag.

"Thanks for comin'," McCoy tells Uhura and Scotty.

Nyota kisses his cheek. "Of course I'd be here! I like you so much better than Kirk, you know." She whispers this loudly into Leonard's ear.

Jim stops pretending not to eavesdrop in order to complain. "You were my friend first, Uhura!"

She smirks. "Loyalty is overrated these days."

Leonard walks over to the couch where Jim is currently situated, having been delegated the task of sorting M&M's (Joanna hates green ones) and drops a hand to the back of Jim's neck. "First rule about relationships," he murmurs, "—learn to share." Rather than concluding his point with a kiss, he steals of an M&M, plops it into his mouth, and walks away.

Jim is still absently moving around piles of M&M's when the doorbell rings again. He beats Joanna to the door, sticks his tongue out at her (she sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation), and jerks open the door.

His grin dies.

"Jim," greets Gaila, looking gorgeous in a sun dress and sweater. "Joanna, I brought you a little something!" Joanna grabs the wrapped box and shakes it enthusiastically.

"Is it makeup?!" she demands.

Gaila laughs.

When Joanna is gone, gift in hand, Gaila introduces the man next to her. "Jim, this is Khan."

Khan removes his sunglasses. "Hello, Mr. Kirk. Intriguing, isn't it, that we meet again?"

"You didn't mention that you knew him, sweetie," says the red-haired woman.

Khan presses one of her hands between both of his. "It was an acquaintance made in passing, my dear."

Gaila smiles at him, kisses his cheek, and skirts around Jim when Nyota calls from the kitchen, "Hey, girl!" She says over her shoulder, "Jim, can you keep Khan company for a while? Thanks!"

This is how Jim ends up with Khan. This is also the point at which Jim should have realized the day wasn't going to go as planned. Sadly, he hadn't a clue.

~~~

"You live here," Khan remarks offhandedly as he peruses the living room. "I congratulate you on the excellence of your home, Mr. Kirk. I must say, however, I find it... unexpected for a man such as yourself."

Jim stiffens. Apparently he had Khan pegged the first time Gaila mentioned his name: the man _is_ a douchebag.

"It's my boyfriend's home," he says tightly.

"Ah."

Why the Hell had Gaila left them alone together? Is this her fantastic plan of testing how well two important men in her life can get along?

He quirks his mouth at Khan and points his thumb over his shoulder. "I need to check on the man at the grill."

"I have not toured the pool area yet. I will join you."

Jim grits his teeth and heads outdoors, Khan on his heels. How angry, exactly, would Gaila be if Khan "accidentally" fell into the pool?

She probably wouldn't speak to him for a year. Damn.

Jim sidles away from Khan the minute he can and hurries over to the large gas grill. He catches Bones peering into its depths, not paying attention to his surroundings, and so Jim does what any boyfriend would. He sneaks quietly up behind McCoy, reaches down, and gives his ass a nice, firm smack.

Leonard yelps, caught by surprise, and jumps around to face his molester with a spatula held high.

Jim backs up, palms out. "Whoa, Bones, no need to get violent!"

Leonard's mouth purses in a scowl. "Don't do that again, kid."

"The scaring-you part or the touching-your-tush part? 'Cause I think one of them would make both of us sad."

Leonard sighs, ignores his smart remark, and motions at the grill. "Spock's the only one who can start this damn thing. Where is he?"

"At the airport picking up his boss."

Side-by-side, Jim and Leonard look down into the depths of the grill—again—and debate on whether or not if they open the propane valve and drop a match in, it will explode.

McCoy wants to know, "How come I didn't know his boss was coming to town?"

"None of us did," explains Kirk, "until this morning. Spock got a last-minute call."

The man grumbles, "That sure was rude. Think this guy is an asshole?"

Jim grimaces. "I hope not. He's going to be staying at this house for the duration of his business trip."

"Shit."

"Yup."

"Doctor McCoy, how pleasant to see you," remarks a familiar voice.

Jim starts gritting his teeth again as he straightens up.

Leonard is more cordial. "Afternoon, Mr. Singh."

"Khan, if you please."

"Khan," acknowledges the doctor. They shake hands.

Khan looks perfectly at ease in his expensive Armani jacket and trousers, hands tucked in his trouser pockets. His smile of greeting is small, polite, and, when he glances at Jim, knowing. "I am told, Doctor" he says by way of making small talk, "that we are celebrating your daughter as the guest of honor. I am humbled you would allow me, as a recent acquaintance, to attend."

"Don't mention it," Leonard says, and Jim turns to look at Bones, startled.

"You knew he was coming here?" His tone of voice may be a tad too sharp.

Leonard shrugs but the motion is a wince of _oops, did I forget to mention that?_ "Sure. Gaila called a couple of days ago and asked if she could bring a plus one. I told her it was fine."

Jim is not happy. "Bones..."

McCoy clears his throat loudly to intercede before Jim can offend Khan. Jim doesn't appreciate the interruption.

Khan, no doubt sensing the tension between Kirk and McCoy, seeks to turn the subject. Except Jim is fairly positive Khan will only move onto a topic that makes him look good. Jim isn't wrong.

"I am familiar with this brand." The man indicates the gas grill.

"Thank God," Leonard says with relief, moving aside for Khan. "I was afraid I'd set Spock's house on fire. Can you get it started for us?"

Jim protests quickly, "I can do it, Bones."

Leonard gives him a funny look since Jim had previously admitted to never owning anything other than a standard back porch charcoal grill.

"I would not want to impose," begins Khan.

Jim's eye twitches.

"No, go ahead. You sound like you have more experience than either of us. _Jim_ , let's go get the hamburgers from the kitchen."

Khan turns back to the grill, shedding his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his pristine white shirt.

Jim, in tow, has to follow Leonard into the house. The pair step around Uhura, Gaila, and Christine who are standing at the sliding glass door and observing Khan with interest. Nyota is saying, "Jesus H. Christ, look at the muscles in those forearms. You're a lucky woman, Gaila."

Jim calls at them, still in the process of being dragged by his boyfriend far away from the grill, "Hey, bulky guys are gross!"

The women turn to look at him.

"Jim," warns Leonard.

"Bones," he shoots back.

"Kitchen."

Jim sighs but it's a sigh full of aggravation. "Okay. _Kitchen._ "

He very much doubts anything can stop him from making an ass of himself later on.

~~~

He watches Khan flirt with Gaila, flirt with Nyota, and then flirt with Christine; he watches Khan put Joanna on his knee and, since the exotic man is obviously rich to a little girl's eyes, become King Noonien (Joanna likes Khan's middle name, it seems). Bones laughs at the idea that Khan is a king and therefore outranks Prince Jim. Jim thinks this is so hilarious he doesn't crack a smile and has to excuse himself to the kitchen for the second time in ten minutes.

Away from everyone, he goes about slamming kitchen cabinets while pretending to look for barbecue sauce (which is sitting out on the counter and which he stubbornly ignores). It is, surprisingly, Eleanor who comes into the kitchen, sits down, and fixes him with a stare.

"Abusing the woodwork won't help," she points out.

He shoots her a _go-away_ glare from over his shoulder and closes the next cabinet door with a _bang_.

Eleanor stirs her iced tea, undisturbed. Jim has no idea why she is trying to talk to him now but he isn't in the mood to listen to anything she has to say. He stalks by the table, intent on continuing his fit of temper in the privacy of a bathroom, and she reaches out and touches his arm, saying plaintively, "Jim."

Jim looks at her, silent, because he would otherwise snap at her. They both know how well that turned out last time.

She says, "I don't like him either."

"Disliking someone seems to be a regular thing for you," he retorts before he can stop to think.

The woman flinches.

He pulls back and rakes a hand through his hair. "Sorry." It's short but still an apology.

"No, I deserved that. I haven't been nice to you since we first met."

He says nothing.

She continues, "I want you to know I'm not against your relationship with Leonard. My principles aren't so crude. Leonard likes people for who they are, regardless of gender. I have always," she admits quietly, "admired him for that bravery. I've worried about him because of it, too. Then one day that worry became a reality."

She is talking about the divorce and Leonard's alienation because of the rumors which resulted from it.

"He's not going to leave you," Eleanor says at last.

"Which means you probably hate me even more now than you did before."

"On the contrary—it means if I continue to fight with Leonard about returning to Georgia, I'll lose him. I don't want that. So—" She tucks her hands into her lap. "—I want your word of honor you will be good to my boy. And don't think," she adds with an authoritative edge to her voice, "that I won't come straight back to Iowa if I hear otherwise!"

Jim isn't certain what he thinks about this new attitude. "What really changed your mind, Eleanor?"

She considers him for a long moment before speaking. "The night my son realized you had come and gone, and he couldn't find you... I hadn't seen him that scared in a long time. Which tells me you mean a great deal to him."

"The feeling's mutual."

"Then you'd better not decide differently one day, Jim. Leonard has had enough people trample on his heart to last a lifetime. You love him right."

He finds it easy to say, "Yes, ma'am." Then, because he has to know, "What about Joanna?"

"We'll work on that. Jocelyn is..." Her expression sours. "Lord help me but it takes every ounce of self control I have not to slap that nasty woman!" Eleanor McCoy looks murderous at the thought of her son's ex-wife. "I have half a mind to keep Joanna, but then _she'd_ call in the law. Hmph! Keeping me from my own grandbaby! But that kind of trouble won't help if Leonard is to get his little girl back."

If Jim is reading his McCoy signs right, her rant is just beginning to launch. He says quickly, "I, uh, I'll just take these chips outside now" and grabs an unopened bag of Lay's from the counter in his haste to pursue a direction that takes him far away from Bones' mother, leaving her alone to burn holes in the kitchen tabletop with her laser glare.

He winds up passing the front door of the house just in time to hear a familiar, wonderful rumble. The Corvette is pulling into the driveway and Spock's timing, Kirk thinks, might just prevent him from breaking something—like Khan's face. He stuffs the bag of potato chips under his arm and lifts the lace curtain over a window in the front of the house to watch Spock exit the car. There is another person opening the passenger door. Jim is shocked to see it is an older woman, as neatly dressed as Spock and with her hair secured in a tight french twist. She turns to observe the house as Spock manhandles a medium-sized suitcase out of the trunk. She says something to him, he nods, and they begin their trek up the sidewalk that leads to the front door.

Jim isn't certain or not if Spock would appreciate a greeting at the door. Probably not, he decides, since Spock undoubtedly prefer a calm and charming Kirk for introductions that a man who is bounding around with a potato chips bag and a desire for a fistfight. Besides, he needs to get back to the party so he can tell Bones that The Boss has arrive—and she's one scary-looking woman.

~~~

Spock joins the party, explaining that his new house guest may not join their celebration. Jim doesn't necessarily think that is a bad thing. Except it turns out that Spock is wrong, sadly so.

Khan works his way into the conversation between Leonard and Spock. When Spock turns to the man, a curious quirk to his eyebrow, Jim is about to jump in and try to run Khan off—which might be difficult with Gaila standing right there, too—but the sounds of heels clicking against stone and a flash of a new person on the patio gives him pause.

The Boss has abandoned the solitude of her room, apparently, and is seeking someone. Jim can't decide between hiding Spock or going toe-to-toe with Khan. Unfortunately, he waits too long. She spots their small group off to the side—and her eyes narrow.

"How unexpected," she says, raising her deep voice (a long-time smoker, Jim would guess) to gain attention as she approaches.

The woman could be older than Bones' mother but seems to have aged well, with only fine lines around her mouth, suggesting she frowns more than she smiles. It's her eyes, however, that are arresting. They are almost black, and very hard.

Jim prays she might be Khan's match in temperament. Maybe he could pair them off together? Oh right. Gaila. Crap.

"Mr. Spock," The Boss says sharply, "I was unaware that you are acquainted with Mr. Singh." To Khan, "Greetings, Mr. Singh."

"I am not acquainted with this gentleman," Spock corrects. Perhaps sensing that he ought to be, if only to appease the woman, Spock inclines his head politely and says, "Mr. Singh, I am Spock. Welcome to my home. Might I inquire how you know Ms. T'Pau?"

"You have caught us quite by surprise." T'Pau steps in, overriding Spock. "You must forgive me, I have not had a chance to debrief my colleague on the particulars of Eugenics' retention of Cochrane's services."

Khan waves his hand languidly. "I shall consider our premature meeting a sign of good fortune, and well met, Mr. Spock. You have an pleasant home—and keep delightful company."

Jim, who is frozen by this turn of conversation, is unnerved at how Khan looks to him when he says the word _delightful_.

"But come," Khan gestures to the party, "let us enjoy tonight's entertainment as new friends. Tomorrow shall be for the discussion of business."

T'Pau's agreement is demur, and she accepts Khan's suggestion that she refresh herself after a long plane ride with a cocktail. Gaila, who is blatantly curious about this unknown woman Khan knows by name, presses herself close to her boyfriend's side. Khan secures her there with an arm about her waist and, together, the three people move toward the makeshift bar, chatting amicably.

Jim breaks from his state of shock and makes a grab for Spock's arm. The first thing out of his mouth is vehement protest: "You _can't_ represent Khan!"

Spock blinks. "Jim, that decision is not mine to make."

"Yes, it is! You can decline," he argues hotly.

First Bones, now Spock? This can't be happening... but it is.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed man does not seem to understand Jim's distress. "If I declined, I would lose my job, which is already in a tenuous state."

"What do you mean?" Leonard presses for information, who has crowded in close to block their guests' view of their conversation, no doubt in case one of them creates a spectacle.

Spock shifts uncomfortably, and Jim is forced to let go of his arm.

"My request for an extension of my sabbatical was declined," Spock tells them at last. "I have two weeks left in which to decide if I wish to remain on the firm's payroll. I suspect T'Pau's business trip to Riverside is not solely based on coincidence, but is also here to evaluate me. I have been told," he adds more quietly, "that, should I resume work in a timely manner, Cochrane is prepared to make me a partner within one year."

Spock would worry for nothing if he joined in the partnership of the law firm.

Jim swallows down apprehension. "Spock, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I have not yet made my decision." Meaning, he doesn't know if he is going to stay in Riverside, and he doesn't want their last two weeks to be overshadowed by such a possibility.

But, truthfully, would that be any better than Spock announcing one day that he is returning to Boston and not planning to come back?

Bones says it for both of them, quite fiercely. "Bullshit. We knew you were fretting over something, but this is the kind of thing you _discuss_ with us! I wouldn't have thought you a coward, Spock."

That wasn't the best thing to say.

Spock's voice is ice cold. "I am _not_ a coward."

This conversation is turning into deadly verbal quicksand. Jim forgoes his own high-priority concern (namely Khan) in order to salvage their evening. "Let's talk about it later—once Joanna's gone," he says by way of reminding them where they are.

Blankness immediately drops over Spock's face to mask his feelings, and Leonard stares down into his cup of soda, jaw ticking. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

Joanna's young voice calls from across the patio, "Daddy! Daddy, it's time for the CAKE!"

Leonard walks away without a word, and follows Eleanor into the house to retrieve the ice cream cake. Spock excuses himself to join T'Pau, Gaila, and Khan, while Jim opts to lean against the patio railing and brood.

After a few minutes, Scotty wanders over—that is, away from the women crowding him—and stands next to Jim. At Scotty's sigh, Jim's mouth forms a half-smile. "Need a break from all the people?"

Scotty shrugs. "Takes some gettin' used to. I'm not good at crowds." The man scratches his head. "Don't know what to say."

Jim nods in agreement. "Silence is golden, man."

His companion grunts and takes a long swallow from the drink in his hand.

Jim reaches out without thinking and pats Scotty's shoulder. "Thanks."

Scotty blinks at him. "What for?"

Jim answers, "Don't know."

But he does know. Scotty isn't effected by the turmoil in Riverside, isn't another name on Jim's list of problems. For once, with a crystal clear clarity, Jim can see the beauty of moving away from this town. And today, at this very moment, he regrets that he ever came back.


	8. Part Eight

"I just don't know, Mom."

Winona reaches out and rubs her fingers against the back of her son's neck. She would do this when he was fussy as an infant, she always says; and she has continued to use the same method over twenty years later because it still works.

Jim drops his head forward and absently picks at the kitchen table cloth under his fingertips. The calm atmosphere of the farm reminds him why he loves it here—and why it will always be home to him. He is comforted by its familiarity.

He thinks of earlier this morning and why, essentially, he is here seeking solace from someone other than Bones and Spock.

~~~

The three men had escorted Joanna and Eleanor to the airport terminal for the trip to Georgia. Rather than returning by bus as the grandmother and granddaughter originally arrived in Riverside, Spock was flying them back first-class. His personal gift, he had said, while casually placing the plane tickets in front of Mrs. McCoy at their final late-night adults-only dinner. (Saturday's party had lingered well until dusk and Joanna was napping against her father.) When the woman tried to refuse the tickets, the lawyer had simply blinked at her and remarked, "You may discard them if you wish, Eleanor." Of course Eleanor gasped at the idea of such wasteful spending; thereby Spock had circumvented an argument quite neatly and painlessly. Jim later gave Spock a kiss for being so brilliant.

There were tears on Leonard's and Joanna's part. The little girl clung to her father's neck and said she didn't want to leave. She pleaded, "I was good, Daddy. Why can't I stay with you 'n Prince Jim 'n Uncle Spock? I was good!"

Leonard kissed both of her cheeks. "'Course you were, JoJo, but we talked about this. How sad would your mama be if you didn't come home?" His voice was meant to be soothing but Jim could hear the strain in it. That strain made Leonard's boyfriend clench his fist and have to look away while tamping down on emotions out-of-place for the occasion. Jim remained where he was along the curb of the airport entrance standing next to Spock.

Joanna did not like the gentle question from her father and tucked her face into his shirt. She was smart for her age, Jim thought, and while she knew deep down no amount of begging or fussing would change her father's mind, being a child, it still took longer for her to accept that fact.

Eventually Eleanor coaxed Joanna into letting Leonard go. Leonard rose from his kneeling position, and Joanna, holding her grandmother's hand, said in a tiny voice, "Your pants are all dirty now, Daddy. Who's gonna wash 'em if me and Granny leave?"

Leonard touched the top of her head with fondness, with love, but only murmured, "Don't forget to say goodbye to Spock and Jim."

She woefully turned away, trailed over to her father's two companions, and opened her arms with a sad little "Uncle Spock?" The man picked her up without hesitation and let her hold onto him as if she were four or five. Jim was deeply touched by this because Spock had rarely made physical contact with Joanna (as was his nature, Jim had learned in good time, around children). Glancing at McCoy's mother, Kirk could see tears in her eyes, too.

Leonard said "Ma" and hugged the woman hard. Her composure cracked for a split second and she clung to her son not unlike her granddaughter had. But Eleanor let him go of her own accord, dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief from her purse, and found the strength to square her shoulders. "We'll be all right," she told her son. Her face was soft as she first considered him then let her eyes skip over to Jim and Spock, who was still holding Joanna. "You'll be all right too, I guess."

Leonard agreed. "I've got plenty of people here who'll look after me."

The two McCoy’s exchanged something unspoken in that moment. Whatever it was, Jim thought, it was probably what prompted Eleanor to hug him goodbye. She actually patted his back a little as she did so. "You remember your promise now," she said to Jim by way of conversation.

Jim nodded, suddenly ashamed a part of him was glad Bones' mother was leaving.

The two people parted, no more words between them. Spock set Joanna down in order to accept Eleanor's goodbye hug, and Jim squatted to the little girl's level.

"Hey, Princess," he said with a smile, "I hope you know I'm going to miss you."

Joanna firmed her mouth up—identical to an expression of Bones'—and considered him with a gravity that tickled his throat. Calling up his iron will, Jim kept the tickle at bay, preventing it from turning into a laugh. Then Joanna leaned forward and placed a light, shy kiss on his cheek. "You haveta wait for me, Prince Jim," said the girl in all seriousness as she pulled back to stare at him. "When I'm grown up, we'll get married."

Maybe it was her stare, maybe it was her sincere expectation, but somehow Jim found himself saying, "Okay."

Joanna went to her grandmother's side, and Leonard joined Jim at his. McCoy said, eyes fixed ahead, "You just keep in mind, Jim, I'll kill you first before I let you marry my daughter."

"Sure, Bones," agreed Jim, undisturbed, "though I doubt that will be a problem. It's her daddy I am after."

Bones threaded his fingers through Jim's, and Jim squeezed them. Watching Bones say goodbye to Joanna wasn't the easiest thing Jim had ever witnessed but, knowing Leonard McCoy like he did, it was a reminder of why he loved the man so much. Bones would survive as, Jim hoped, they all would in the days to come.

~~~

"Are you jealous of Mr. Singh?" Winona wants to know.

Jim jerks his head up. His denial is a vehement "No!"

"Just checking," replies his mother mildly. She folds her arms on the kitchen table. "Then why are you so set against Leonard and Spock associating with him?"

Jim gives her a funny look. "Mom, seriously, how can you ask that? The guy wants to turn the Enterprise back into an empty lot."

"That's my business, Jimmy," she says rather sharply. "And it certainly isn't a valid reason to tell your man you'll leave him if he takes an opportunity you don't approve of."

He gapes. "Why are you fussing at me! I haven't done anything—"

"Yet," she interrupts.

He ignores that. "—and, shit, I wouldn't leave Bones or Spock over _Khan_." He says the name with contempt. No, he wouldn't leave his partners—he’d pack them up along with the rest of his family and move them the hell away from Eugenics Corp.

"Don't curse at the table," she tells him, voice mild again. "Sweetie, I don't why you are so worked up over this man. He isn't after you in particular. It's the town he wants," she explains. Her eyes wander over the kitchen absently as she talks, a sign Winona is more worried than her tone implies. "We're little fish, Jim. We're nothing more than the name on a check from his bank account, and even then men like Mr. Singh never miss that money for long. We mean nothing to him, really, in the scheme of things." She smiles, if somewhat sadly, at Jim. "It's pointless to fret over somebody you can't change."

"I don't want to change him," he tells her ominously. "I want to _get rid of him._ "

Winona shakes her head. "I don't see how you can."

"I've been thinking—" Jim starts.

She sighs.

He continues stubbornly, "—what if the City Council refuses to approve Eugenics' permit to build in Riverside?"

"Considering how much the city would profit from a new medical facility, what are the chances the permit wouldn't be approved?"

Jim counters, "What were the chances you would get to build your dream business? Shit happens, Mom," he says, thinking of Trelane and the fire which ruined Bob's diner, "and sometimes we get something good out of it in the end. Maybe Khan being here is a catalyst."

"What for, if not to up-end our lives?" It seems she agrees with him that Khan isn't a good thing despite not fully exposing her feelings on the matter.

"To make us realize we have to protect what we care about." Jim thumps his fist on the table softly then stands up. "Thanks, Mom."

Winona looks bemused and slightly apprehensive. "Jimmy, last time you had that look you were planning to free the elephants from the zoo."

"I was five," he argued, "and the zoo was in Des Moines."

"Sheriff Komack found you trying to board a Greyhound. I didn't even know you had slipped out from under Bob's nose."

Jim grins. Komack had been a deputy back then. Apparently James T. Kirk's career as a Riverside nuisance had started at a tender age; at least, Komack never fails to remind him of this whenever they meet as jailor and jailed. And Robert Wesley... "Bob was never good at babysitting."

"Don't pick on Bob," Winona fusses.

Jim is really going to have to have a long chat with the mayor: first he needs to determine where Bob stands on the issue of Eugenics riding into town like an outlaw posse come to stir up trouble and, secondly, he wants to confirm his sneaking suspicion that Winona and Bob might be headed towards a serious romance. Frankly the thought of his mother and Bob as, well, anything other than platonic puts him on the awkward side of jumpy. So he'll talk to Bob and also make it clear what happens to a man who breaks Winona Kirk's heart—after his mother pulls out her shotgun, that is.

Winona walks over to a kitchen cabinet and removes a large bowl. "I know you're determined to get started on whatever rebel-rousing you've decided on, but it's Sunday. Sunday is for spending with family."

Which is partly why he is here. Leonard had bowed out of the usual Sunday meal by saying he just wanted to nap (which in Bones' language means he wants to hurt in private for a little while before he lets Jim knock some sense into him) and T'Pau claimed Spock on the pretense of a necessary work-related discussion. Jim doubts it's pretense at all; he caught a glimpse of Spock and T'Pau in the study amidst a sea of paperwork. Hence why Jim came to the farm alone—and he is glad of it. Jim knows he needs time to put his thoughts into perspective. It doesn't hurt to talk to his mother about those thoughts either, as their conversation has proved.

Jim plops back into his seat. "Is there cake?"

"There will be. You're going to help me make it."

"Only if I get to lick the icing spoon."

"Since when," she says, faking offense, "have I ever denied my boy that childish pleasure?"

"Childish, huh? Then what's your excuse for doing it?"

She laughs. "I'm the mom. Do as I say, not as I do."

She asks him to find the measuring cups. Jim obliges her, already anticipating the smell of a cake baking in the oven.

He gives no further thought to Khan or Bob or liberating captive elephants.

~~~

If Sunday is for relaxing, Monday is for disaster. Jose's news could not be considered anything _but_ such a thing.

Jim, in surprise, drops his wrench. The clatter of it is a startling echo in the silence of the garage. "You're selling out? Fuck, no, you aren't, Jose!"

"Don't remember it being your choice, _chico_ ," replies his boss, arms crossed.

" _It_ ," he stresses, "directly affects my livelihood. How can you be so—" Jim stops himself, doesn't finish that statement.

But he doesn't need to.

"Callous?" Jose sighs. "Sometimes a man has to make choices that keep him up at night. Look, would this be any different if I wanted to retire?"

"But you hate that idea, Jose," Jim tells him. "Why else would I have felt I could stay here forever? You loathe idleness as much as I do and we _both_ love the work. I always thought they'd have to cart you out in a coffin, man, because you run this place until you fell over dead."

"It's good money," Jose says more quietly. "The kind I can't make doing tractor repairs and oil changes in a small town. I don't want to be a fool, Jim, and let an opportunity like this go. I can tell you now, the chances it'll happen again?" He shakes his head. "Near impossible."

Jim turns away. He understands; he does. But he's suffocating under the sudden certainty that Khan _is_ going to take away everything he loves. "I need," he begins but can't say he wants to disappear. "Lunch," Kirk finishes lamely. "I'll see you in a while."

Jose only says, "Don't forget to come back, Jim."

What is there to come back to? Jim nods half-heartedly. He sheds his overalls in the bathroom, folding the well-worn clothing carefully and setting it on a stool, then scrubs his face clear of grease marks, grabs his jacket, and walks out of the garage.

He doesn't get far.

Jim pulls off to a side road and stops his motorcycle. The black car trailing him slows to a stop beside him.

His life has turned into a tv drama. _Well, no more!_ he thinks fiercely. Jim tears off his helmet and chucks it at the roof of the car. It hits the edge with a thunk and bounces away into somebody's rose bush. The window, which was in the process of rolling down, pauses.

Jim, hands fisted, dares, "What the fuck do you want?"

The window finally rolls down all the way. A small face peeks out at him from the dark interior of the car.

"James?" inquires Lady Q as dignified as a royal in her carriage. "You must be careful. I fear the acorns are rather large and deadly this time of year."

Jim looks at the dent left behind from the impact of his helmet. He puts a hand to his face, shoves down an unexpected giddiness, and asks, "What do you want?"

"Do get in, dear."

He looks at her from between his fingers. Her voice sounds odd. "Why?"

Lady Q is having none of that, apparently. "James! _Please_ , get in. Hurry!"

He only obeys because she waves at him frantically with that awful fan and he fears she will come out of the vehicle, mad Victorian attire awhirl, and attract unwanted attention. Kirk gets a face full of lace ribbons when he tries to squeeze in beteeen her dress and the door. He holds a petticoat down with an arm so he can see her face. "Why are you away from the comp—campus?"

"I know! Isn't it frightful?" Her fan snaps open and closed in clear agitation. "But I could not stay safely behind the walls of my castle while you were entrenched with the enemy, James. How fares the battle?"

Jim almost tells her to cut the crap, but her expression is strangely earnest. Some of his resistance melts away.

"Not good," he admits. "Bones is going to work for Eugenics, Khan has hired Spock as his lawyer, and my boss just told me I'm out of a job."

The next minute—and ensuing fit—finds Jim half-falling out of the car in order to avoid injury (or suffocation by petticoat). When Lady Q is no longer shrilling like a fire alarm, he looks at her from his sitting position on the ground and wants to know, "Can I have my foot back?"

Lady Q observes the tangle of his sneaker in the ribbons on her dress, calls for the driver Q, and says to her wide-eyed Captain, "Pardon my reaction. Your news was indeed 'not good.'" To the driver who is suddenly looming over Jim, "Cut him free—but do not damage my attire. It is, after all, vintage."

Since there is no way to remove the ribbons without damaging them, Jim fears for his limb and does the smart thing. He tugs his foot out of his shoe and backs away from the man with the pocket knife. Lady Q frowns at the sneaker still caught in her lace ribbons, no doubt disappointed her James won't have a wooden peg for the lower half of his leg.

"I must speak with an acquaintance," she tells Jim, seeming to switch topics. "Would you be available to meet with him tomorrow evening?"

He looks at her in disbelief. "You aren't going to kidnap me?"

"I could never present you in your current state, James. Tell me, does your mother not darn your socks?"

He eyes the socked foot with a big toe peeking through a hole. The sock is still use-able, if slightly threadbare, so he doesn't understand her issue with it. He answers instead, "Mom doesn't darn." Though she would have no doubt thrown the sock away—which is why Jim does his own laundry these days.

"Dress for a leisurely dinner," Lady Q informs him. "The first course begins at seven o'clock." Addressing the driver awaiting instruction, "To our next destination, if you please. Oh, and might you play some of that music our automobile-neighbors with the shiny wheels were enjoying at the stoplight around the corner? It sounded delightful!"

The Q blinks. "They call it rap, your Ladyship."

Lady Q drags the end of her dress—sneaker, ribbons and all—back into the car. "Rap it is then!" she says, authority ringing in her voice.

Jim is not sad to see her go. Later, at the Enterprise Diner, he tries to think of a believable explanation when Pavel wants to know why he is missing a shoe, cannot, and simply summarizes, "An old lady took it."


	9. Part Nine

“James! How delightful of you to visit!” Lady Q is all smiles and fan-waving as Jim enters the lavishly decorated dining room. Jim cannot figure out if the woman forgot she had invited him to dinner or she had not informed her companion of his impending arrival, to whatever purpose presently suit her plans.

Next to Lady Q, a man rises from a chair and turns to face Jim. They are both surprised beyond words; Jim had not anticipated meeting this person again in his lifetime.

Christopher Pike regains his composure in the next instant and greets Kirk with a grave nod. “Hello.”

“Captain,” Jim says, walking forward and offering his hand. “It’s been a while.”

Pike doesn’t smile but his eyes lack hostility. “Yes it has. Are you and Winona—your mother managing well?”

“We have our troubles like anyone else but nothing too bad. Mom is owner of the diner now.”

“I’m glad to hear it. She always…” But Pike stops and shakes his head. “Your father had high hopes she would be able to live that dream some day.”

Jim gets a strange nervous tickling in his stomach whenever someone speaks of his father with such familiarity. Knowing that Pike had served so closely in-arms with his father only heightens his reaction.

When Jim was younger he wanted to know everything about the man who should have raised him but died prematurely. He wanted to make the feeling of being George Kirk’s son that much more real in his mind, but then something changed as Jim grew up. He still pines in his heart to hear of his father but asking, it seems, only dredges up a past Jim isn’t certain he wants to be beholden to, since it isn’t _his_ past. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, he always reminds himself when the urge to know strikes.

Kirk clears his throat, attempting to pull his mind back to the present, and looks between Pike and Lady Q. Pike also looks to Lady Q but has the nerve to ask her, slightly shocking Jim, “Why are you messing with George’s boy?”

Jim decides the instrument in Lady Q’s hands is for covering up a mischievous smile rather than for the actual purpose of fanning.

“Nonsense, Christopher. James is a friend of the Q.” She explains, “Christopher has always felt a peculiar responsibility toward your mother and you. If I am not mistaken, he anonymously supplemented your family's monthly pension from the government until you turned eighteen. Though…” She drops the fan to her lap and fixes a hard stare on Pike. “You ought to have known better than to tempt little James into Service. Thankfully he had sense enough to refuse.”

Jim tries to interrupt, “Wait, how did you know—“

Lady Q leans back in her chair, pleased for no apparent reason. “The Q always know what our dear Captain is up to. You see, James, Christopher is a protégée of my husband’s—as was your father.”

Why is the floor suddenly tilting? An earthquake?

No, he decides, moving carefully over to an empty chair to sit down, it’s due to a revelation he had never imagined possible. Once seated, he asks slowly, “My father… was involved with the Q?”

A hand lands on his shoulder; the pressure there is reassuring, somewhat calming. “Breathe,” orders Pike. Then to Lady Q, in a voice with a hard edge of rebuke, “He knows nothing, Bella. George wouldn’t want him to know, or even be here for that matter. George trusted you to see to that. What have you done?”

Jim feels frozen.

Her eyes turn unexpectedly icy. “You dare? I made George Kirk a promise—and this is how it must be kept. James has always been under our care, if at a distance, but the time for estrangement as passed. He is of age—and he _is_ his father’s son.”

When their staring contest doesn’t abate, Jim recovers sufficiently enough to slam the side of his fist onto the table. Silverware rattles. An empty wineglass tips over. Kirk then shrugs off the tight grip of Pike’s hand on his shoulder and pushes out of the chair. He wants to pace but cannot bring himself to turn his back to them, lest they pull some other kind of trick to floor him again.

“It isn’t going to work this way,” he informs the pair. “I really don’t give a flying fuck about any game of the Q—“ This he directs to Lady Q. “—and I am _not_ a puppet that dances on a string.” He says to Pike next, “I don’t want to hear it from her. You tell me. If my father worked for the Q, are they the reason he’s dead?”

The surprise in Pike’s face is answer enough. That indescribable cold _something_ unknots within Jim, enough that he is able to swallow down a burgeoning anger.

Pike is saying, “No—no, Lord Q directed us into service but anything we did there, Jim, was on our own. Your father—he died in the line of duty to his country, not to the Q.”

Jim holds the Captain’s gaze. “Then why are you here, Chris?”

Pike sucks in a sharp breath. “God, you sound just like George.”

Lady Q claps her hands in delight. “Doesn’t he! He is very much like his father, both in temperament and appearance. I despaired of him before our initial introduction. Such an upstart in his youth,” she chides good-naturedly. “But young James has matured well—undoubtedly an attribute of the Kirk’s good-breeding.”

Farmers are of good-breeding? Sometimes Jim wonders if Lady Q doesn’t make the rules up as she goes along.

He raises his hands and reminds them, “Let’s not get off-subject. What’s Captain Pike doing here and why was I supposed to meet him?”

The old woman whaps at Pike’s vacated chair with the edge of her fan. It is either used to the abuse or is made of steel rather than paper and wood. “Reseat yourself, Christopher. You do look as though you are about to lecture. I _detest_ that look.”

Pike sits down with a sigh. After a moment, he admits to Jim, “Not even I am certain why Bella brought me here."

Curious, Jim asks, “So she kidnaps you too?”

The man almost smiles. “Yes—though less frequently now that I am middle-aged. She prefers her male acquaintances younger and more… exuberant.”

Lady Q gives a little shriek of indignation. “Slander!” But she is clearly pleased by the talk. “What a silly assumption on your behalf, Christopher dear.” Jim is asked slyly, “Captain Pike is not unpleasant on the eyes, is he?”

“He’s a little old for my tastes too.”

Pike covers his eyes with a hand. When his shoulders are no longer shaking with suppressed laughter, the man sobers, wants to know, “What’s going on, Bella?”

Apparently Jim is not the only person struggling to direct the conversation from more wayward topics.

“Must we discuss this before dinner?” Her little bell appears from nowhere (from somewhere about her gown, that is) and she rings it lightly. “I remember quite well how fond you are of stuffed goose, Christopher. James prefers the roast piglet.”

No, he doesn’t, which means she did notice that it was the only thing he wouldn’t eat last time they had this kind of banquet. Does that also mean Pike doesn’t like goose? Judging by the man’s expression, probably so.

Pike very casually draws out a pair of gloves from his pocket and proceeds to put them on. Lady Q puts down her bell, eyes suddenly intent upon him, and even ignores the Q who enters the room with a tray of food.

“Where are you going?” she asks sharply.

“Back to Washington. I’ll need to borrow your chopper. I know you won’t mind.”

She leans forward in alarm. “Christopher.”

Pike ignores her. Jim silently watches this by-play, fascinated.

“Captain Christopher Pike!” demands the old woman. She reaches out and raps hard upon the back of his gloved hand with her fan like he is a naughty child. “You will not leave this campus until we have discussed Khan!”

Pike lifts an eyebrow. “Khan? Would that be Khan Noonien Singh, the terrorist?”

She sinks back into her chair, mouth pursed in disapproval. Whether of Khan or Pike backing her into a corner, Jim does not know.

Jim’s brain finally catches up with the conversation. “Terrorist?” he questions sharply.

Pike studies his expression for some seconds. “He’s here—in Riverside,” guesses the man slowly. “Damn!”

“Damnation!” echoes Lady Q. Neither man pays her any mind.

Jim tells Pike about Eugenics: the buy-out of Derby Hospital, the construction sites, and the offers. He mentions he has met Khan in person, and doesn’t like him any better after knowing him.

“None of this surprises me.” Pike seems faraway in thought.

Jim hates to interrupt Pike's thinking but he needs an answer. “Is Khan really a terrorist?”

“Let’s say he is associated with the business of terrorists,” Pike explains. “Could he be a threat to national security some day? Absolutely.”

“But the medical research…” Jim cannot reconcile that thought.

“We don’t have solid evidence against the purpose of Eugenics, only suspicion—rumors. Some contacts, but none of them will say a word against Khan…” Pike breaks off, perhaps recalling where he is, and says with regret, “I’m sorry, Jim. I can’t discuss this with you as a civilian.”

Jim slides his right hand into his jacket pocket, finds what he is looking for, and rubs a finger against the raised text on Khan’s business card. “I think,” he says to both Pike and Lady Q, “there is something to talk about. Want to hear an idea?”

“This,” Lady Q announces with satisfaction, “is why I have faith in James, Christopher.” She raises her glass and toasts Kirk. “To your father, my dear, and his bravery—and to you and yours. Now, do tell us about this _wonderful_ idea! Does it require MI5 equipment? We have plenty of that.”

Pike groans. “This is not Britain.”

“Well,” says the old woman, “aren’t all secret services the same? Except the Q’s, of course. We are so secretive, no one has determined an acronym for us yet!”

Jim doubts that would be necessary, as the one letter of Q suffices to describe their entire organization. He leans toward Pike and whispers, “Is her name really Bella?”

Pike whispers back, “I don’t think so, but she gave me permission to call her by a first name about 10 years ago.”

“And how long have you known her?”

Pike’s chuckle rumbles in his chest. “20 years, give or take. It’s a privilege you have to earn.”

Jim isn’t certain if he could survive a decade or more’s acquaintance with Lady Q.

“Put the roast piglet by James, please. Yes, and the goose by Christopher,” the woman is directing her staff. “We mustn’t appear to be inhospitable to our guests!” With sparkling eyes, she informs Kirk and Pike, "Life was so much more boring when Lord Q handled these tricky-save-the-world types of situations."

Jim is speechless again.

Pike ignores the stuffed and feather-molting goose and reaches around it for a spoonful of something green. Because the man undoubtedly has years of experience at this dining table, Jim follows suit and makes an identical plate of food for himself. He ignores the fact that his hand might be unsteady as he lifts a fork.

Why do Bones and Spock never have to endure these dinners?

Then, as Lady Q is settled and nibbling on a prune, Jim and Pike begin to talk of Khan and, more importantly, how to handle him.

~~~

One day and one call later finds Jim hard at work.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he tells his companion as they slip into a booth at Cupcake’s bar. “Drink?”

“I assume you want to discuss business, Mr. Kirk. If it concludes well, then we shall certainly celebrate.”

“Deal,” Jim says amicably.

From the opposite side of the booth, Khan sheds his suit jacket and gives Jim his full attention. The dim lighting does nothing to ease the intense, dark features of Khan's face. In truth, Jim thinks it suits Khan well, though it lends a sinister impression to their meeting.

Jim refuses to hint at his disturbance while under the man's scrutiny. He announces without preamble, “I’m in.”

“Good,” remarks the other man, not pretending to misunderstand Kirk's reference.

They look at each other for some seconds. Jim inquires cautiously, “You don’t need a reason—or a vow or references that I make a decent employee?”

“What do any of those things matter?” asks Khan. “I have your consent.” His mouth curves. “The construction has barely broken ground here. If you need to enter our program immediately—“

Need. Funny choice of a word, Jim thinks with a chill.

“—we can send you to a research facility elsewhere. It would require, of course, the willingness to remove yourself from the life you currently have.”

Kirk leans back into the booth, ignoring the smell of cigarette smoke, the noisy occupants of the bar, and anything that might distract him from this game with Khan. “You make it sound as though I would never come back.”

“I doubt you would choose to.” Khan says this so easily, so confidently, that Jim has a sudden and fierce urge to rail against him. But he does not—cannot.

Instead he keeps pushing forward. “What are the risks to me?”

“Physically? The medical team assigned to you will explain the side-effects of each experimentation. You will not be forced to participate at any juncture, of this allow me to assuage your fears. When you do participate, and according to how you participate, you will be amply compensated. We can draw up an agreement to allocate the money as you so desire.” Khan is still smiling lightly. “There are other participants who support family members with their funds; there are some who feel they owe a debt to society and donate to charity. At Eugenics Corp., we tailor to every participant’s need or request, within reason.”

And how many of those participants joined because Khan wielded knowledge of a weakness, used that knowledge to draw them into his plans? Which makes Jim wonder why, up until now, if Khan is a manipulator, the man has not attempted to break down Jim’s resistance in such a manner?

He crosses his arms and tosses out, “I won’t lie to you—I am not entirely convinced this is the right path for me. I have family and friends here, and I _do_ want to stay in touch with them. If I can’t return to Riverside, I don’t see how this can work between us, Khan.”

Khan steeples his fingers. “Are your ties so strong to one place? Most interesting.” After a moment, he says, “I am not heartless man, Kirk—particularly not to those who work for me. If you feel you would be more comfortable here, then it shall be arranged. Perhaps after six month’s time at a different location, at earliest. The program… does take some adjustment for newcomers.” Khan nods, mostly to himself, and murmurs, “Yes, that will do.” When he focuses on Kirk again, “I hope you understand you have chosen a glorious path. You shall go far, as they say.”

The furthest he wants to go with Khan is to the city jail. Jim forces himself to look relieved. “If what you offer is so great, I am thankful to be given this opportunity.” He hunches in his shoulders slightly, says ruefully, “I have to have somewhere to go—and since everybody’s going with you, why not?”

He thinks he sees a flash of triumph in Khan’s eyes; but if it was there, it is masked quickly.

“You will have no regrets. Regret is for the weak of heart,” Khan says wisely. “You are like me, Kirk. You do not know how to be weak.”

Jim drops a loose fist onto the table. “You’ve sold me, man. How about we get that drink now?”

“Excellent decision.” Khan looks toward the bar counter, amused. “I suppose this is not a servicing establishment.” He shifts to stand.

Jim halts him. “I’ll get the drinks. Just tell me what you want—no, wait, let me guess. Brandy?” He grins shrewdly at the man.

Khan has the aura of a man well-pleased. “On most occasions, brandy will do. Tonight, however, should we not toast with a stronger tonic?”

Jim lifts his eyebrows. “Well, there’s the usual vodka.” He leans in and lowers his voice conspiratorily, “But I do know that Cupcake keeps the high-proof stuff, say 150 or over, in the back. Everclear or Absinthe?”

Khan rubs at his jaw judiciously. “One shot of each, straight.”

“I’ll tell the bartender what we want.”

Surprisingly, Cupcake doesn’t make a fuss about it. He only eyes Jim for a second before saying, “Your funeral.”

~~~

They don't stay in the bar long.

The blacked-out SUV turns a street corner and Jim presses his forehead against the cold glass of the window, shifting limply with the motion of the vehicle. He feels on par with his drunken college days—aching head, wobby balance, creeping nausea. Kirk slowly turns his head and eyes the somewhat soberer Khan. His complaint is testy. “Didn’t we drink the same thing?”

“Of course,” answers the man smoothly. “I am certain I shall suffer tonight’s indulgence at some point.”

Jim’s head wobbles. “Thanks for—driving.”

“Thank my chauffeur, Kirk. Where would you prefer he take you? Your apartment or Mr. Spock’s house? I assume your mother’s residence is out of the question.”

“Apartment.” Then, after a moment’s hard thought, he slurs, “How’d you know about all of my houses?”

Khan laughs softly. “I know much about you, James Tiberius Kirk. Is it not ideal to know the most about your enemy?”

Jim should be disturbed by those words but his head is too fuzzy to care. “Huh?”

Khan stares straight ahead, silent, for a long moment while he taps one finger against his leg. At last, the man seems to make a decision, one which has Khan considering at Jim with hooded eyes and a faint smile.

Jim sees Trelane in that instance, blinks hard, and swallows down the bile in his throat. "What?" he demands.

“In every city I choose to reform, there will be those who oppose my presence,” says Khan. “Most can be bought if the price is high enough. Yet I find there is always one who cannot be swayed by the promise of riches.” He turns his head and stares at Jim. “The only way to ensure Eugenics’ uncontested success is to identify the potential problem at the beginning. Study him, learn his weaknesses. Then eliminate him as an obstacle. You are that person, Kirk.”

Jim can barely keep his eyes fixed on Khan; they want to close. “H-How?” he manages. He can’t say the rest. Why is he falling asleep?

Khan seems to know what he is asking. “How have I eliminated you? Ah.” Khan's face grows serious. “It was a simple matter of seducing your support—family, friends. Lovers. If they are with me, Kirk, then you are as well.”

Jim’s head thumps back onto the seat, rolls. His eyes close but he is still aware enough to listen.

“You must wonder why I risk telling you this,” Khan Noonien Singh is saying. “You won’t remember it when you wake up.”

But that doesn’t make sense, doesn’t, unless— “Drugged?” he guesses.

“An uncouth term but yes. Eugenics has an... undisclosed supporter who sponsors the research of, shall we say, mood enhancers. On paper, that is. Truthfully, those particular pharmaceuticals we engineer are part of a national defense program—the kind of which I hesitate to discuss in public, you understand. The dosage you were given is mild. You will be unharmed, except for the memory loss of this past hour."

Was that why Khan had insisted in leaving the bar so soon? But by then, Jim had begun to feel the effects of the alcohol in his system. Or what he thought was alcohol.

"Are you cold? Here.”

The rustling of fabric. Something is draped over his shoulders. It smells of the cologne Khan uses.

Khan’s voice fades in and out as Jim begins to slip further away. "Pull to the sidewalk." _Surveillance assures me he returned some hours ago._

Periods of silence; doors opening and shutting; cold air. Then Khan again, talking low and deep to somebody, and "Jim?" _Ah shit, Jim._

No, no, no. Bones? He tries to force his eyes to stay open but doesn’t succeed for long. His mouth shapes Bones’ name.

_Thanks for gettin’ him here—sorry—_

_No trouble, Doctor, I assure you—_

_—Jim doesn’t usually drink this heavy—_

_—discuss over lunch?—_

_Of course, Mr. Singh._

Someone supports Kirk as he stumbles out of the car and into the apartment, groaning from vertigo. Jim hopes it’s Bones who drops him onto the couch, hopes even more fervently Khan is gone. He tries to warn Bones about Khan but his mouth is clumsy and his boyfriend says, exasperated, “What? Bathroom? Just don’t puke on me, kid.”

He struggles to sit up but his limbs are losing feeling.

An amused, cultured voice says, “It is unwise to move in your condition. McCoy will return; he is only in the next room.” Then, more closely to his ear, the voice whispers, “There is one last thing you must know… When your mission fails, Kirk—when you realize you or your mysterious Q cannot win against me—I will accept your surrender. And I will not hold your disloyalty against you. You have my word of honor.”

Jim’s disjointed thoughts shudder with panic. "Khan?"

But Bones is back, draping a blanket over his legs. "Sleep it off," the doctor advises, no doubt believing Khan's assurance Jim is only drunk. And Jim, poor Jim, finally succumbs to the overpowering cocktail Khan has somehow slipped him.

He blacks out.


	10. Part Ten

When Jim wakes up, he remembers nothing of getting drunk and of the ride from Cupcake’s bar with Khan. Leonard informs him of the event with alacrity—Kirk’s stumbling and bare lucidity, Khan’s kind assistance in helping Leonard drag his drunken boyfriend into the apartment and dump Jim on the couch.

“If your goal was to embarrass yourself, kid, you did a bang-up job.”

Jim spits mouthwash into the bathroom sink. He’s kind of groggy, his stomach unsettled, but nothing too awful that generally comes with a hangover. “I don’t remember any of it, Bones,” he insists. “We were talking, I got us a couple of drinks—but it wasn’t anything that would put me on the floor unless I drank half of the bottle.” He pauses, concedes, “Actually, half a bottle would have put me in the hospital.”

Jim doesn’t have turn around. He can _hear_ the rolling of Leonard’s eyes.

Leonard says, “No more benders, Jim—not unless me or Spock is with you and we look like we’ll be happy to tend to your drunk ass afterward.”

Jim resents the word bender. He tosses aside a hand towel and elbows past Leonard standing in the doorway. “Whatever,” he calls over his shoulder, heading to his bedroom.

He smells like Khan. Or, to be more precise, like the cologne Khan apparently bathes in. It makes him feel gross and, more to the point, furious for no apparent reason.

Bones is stubbornly following Jim, however. And still talking.

Fuck. He thinks Leonard is getting some kind of perverse pleasure out of this.

“Jim! You didn’t hear a word of what I just said, did you?”

He sticks his head into his closet to simultaneously rummage for clean clothes and drown out his boyfriend’s voice. Somebody grabs the back of his shirt and drags him out.

“What!” Jim snaps.

Bones narrows his eyes. “Are you always this pissy when you have a hangover?”

“I don’t have a hangover,” he grates between clenched teeth.

The doctor lifts an eyebrow. “Really? No nausea?”

His temper subsides slightly. “I wouldn’t call it nausea. More like a sensitive stomach.”

“Headache?”

 _Only from listening to you bitch._ Bones isn’t the source of his real anger, though. “No.”

Bones takes Jim’s head between his hands and peers intently into his eyes. “Do you fall at any time last night, Jim?”

He pulls away. “How the fuck would I know? I told you— _I can’t remember anything that happened._ ”

His boyfriend frowns. “I thought you said you’re one of those people who has the misfortune of recalling every stupid thing you do while three sheets to the wind.”

Jim grimaces. “I am, Bones,” which is why he is silently freaking out. The panicking, in turn, comes out as anger.

Maybe Leonard finally catches on or hears something indicative of his unspoken fear in his voice. The man takes one of Jim’s wrists and feels for his pulse, asking, “What else is out of the ordinary?”

This side of Bones is not one Jim can win against. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he says, backing up. “Let me get a shower and take stock of myself. Then I’ll make a report. Sound good?”

“If I let you shower, do you promise not to suddenly pass out and brain yourself on the toilet?”

Jim grins a little because he cannot help it. “You can offer to wash my back, Bones.”

The man snorts and crosses his arms, which isn’t a definite _no_ in Jim’s opinion but more of a _you might yet convince me if you keep blathering_. Jim is about to engage in some playacting (even if he doesn’t have a bad hangover, he has enough experience to fake one) when the familiar sound of the apartment’s front door opening and closing alerts them to a visitor.

Actually, it’s the long yowl that gives Spock’s presence away. Bo Peep likes to make that noise when she is let out of her carrier, as if to announce (Bones theorizes) “I’m here!”

Jim thinks she is screaming, “What the fuck, why are we at Jim’s again?!”

Then Bo Peep will proceed to murder his socks. And Jim isn’t quite certain how she gets them out of his chest of drawers to do it but she does, and she _kills_ them. Repeatedly.

Jim pretends not to see the relief in Leonard’s face now that Spock has arrived. As he rounds the corner of the hallway, Bones in close attendance, he says loudly, “She’s the only cat in the universe who enjoys riding in a crate.”

“You are incorrect,” replies Spock as he secures the climbing Bo Peep in his arms and allows her to happily knead the front of his sweater. “She does not have a fondness for enclosed spaces, but she is a very intelligent creature. I explained to her the necessity of traveling by pet carrier if she wished to come along on my excursions.”

Spock strokes Bo Peep under her chin. She purrs loudly and swishes her tail.

Jim mock-whispers to McCoy, “I think it’s Spock’s brain you need to look at, Bones.”

McCoy mutters something along the lines of how he always ends up dating the crazies.

As Bones retreats to the kitchen in search of something fresh and fishy to appease Bo Peep (maybe this is why she doesn’t attack Bones’ socks, Jim realizes suddenly), Jim is left to watch Spock cradle his cat like a baby.

“You know, you should invest in one of those purse-carriers.” He snickers, thinking of the three of them trying to eat in a restaurant with Bo Peep’s furry face peeking out of an oversized bag. She’d probably attack a croissant roll.

Spock gives him a disdainful look which reads _your ridiculous statement does not warrant commenting upon._ “You appear remarkably recovered from last night’s overindulgence, Jim.”

Funny how Spock doesn’t assume Leonard might have been lying about Jim’s condition.

Jim absently scratches at an itch on his shoulder blade. “I’m all good.”

Spock gives him a long once-over. “Leonard was insistent he could not ‘handle you’ without aid.”

“In Bones’ talk that means he wanted you to come over and help lecture me.”

“Yes, I know.”

Leonard comes out of the kitchen smiling and places a small dish of tuna on the counter. “Spock’s a smart man. I don’t have to tell him half of what I mean like I do for _certain_ people.”

Bo Peep takes a flying leap out of Spock’s arms and dive bombs the tuna dish.

Jim is close to throwing his hands up in the air. He groans, “Could you guys _not_ pick on me today?”

Bones and Spock just look at him.

Jim pivots and stalks toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower now— _alone_.”

He hears from the living room Spock saying to Leonard, “Why does he always assume we wish to accompany him into the shower?”

Bones’ voice is dry. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to us.”

“Then it is most unfortunate for Jim I am nonreligious.”

Jim makes certain to slam the bathroom door shut but when he leans against it, he is grinning, all thoughts of an unpleasant morning gone.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, Kirk steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his good mood completely restored. Hot water cleared away the last vestiges of his unease—that, and the time to plan how he is going to seduce his boyfriends.

But when Jim walks back into the living room, it’s to find Spock handing Gaila a steaming cup of tea. Leonard is stretched out in the recliner with a coffee mug in hand.

Jim is spotted immediately. Spock inquires if he would like something to drink. Jim cannot answer because Gaila starts to smile at him (rather wickedly, he imagines). He clutches at his too-small towel and backtracks to his bedroom to find a pair of pants. He thinks she is gaily saying something to Bones and Spock about, oh, did she interrupt their fun time and does Jim still find it erotic to have someone help shave his chest hair?

Jim is blushing to his roots and considering knocking his head on the wall until he is unconscious. The woman has no shame, as Jim’s mother would say.

What exactly did he do with Khan, Jim wonders as he steps into a pair of jeans, to prompt this embarrassing visit from Gaila?

He does not have to wonder long. The woman verbally jumps him the moment Jim reappears in the living room.

“Khan cancelled our date last night,” she accuses, “because of you.” She pauses to sip at her tea, murmurs to Spock that it has a pleasant flavor. Then she fixates on Kirk again. “Why is that?”

He hangs his head a little, hoping his boyish woeful look still has power over her. “Sorry, Gaila. I didn’t mean to spoil your time with Khan.”

She looks over to the lounging McCoy and they roll their eyes together.

Leonard explains with exasperation, “She doesn’t care about that, idiot. What was so important that you had to see Khan all of a sudden?”

He could lie. He could redirect the conversation.

But why bother?

“He offered me a job,” Jim answers.

Coffee slops over the edge of McCoy’s mug as it is tilted in surprise. The man leaps up from the recliner and shakes his coffee-covered hand with a curse. Then he demands, “Since when?”

Jim shrugs. “Since a couple of weeks ago.”

“Doing what?” Bones barrels on.

Jim isn’t appreciative of his boyfriend’s tone. “I don’t know!” he almost snaps. “As in a lab experiment or something.”

There is a heartbeat of silence. Then Spock breaks it with “You mean Khan wishes to hire you to help conduct research.”

“Definitely not. He phrased it more like I would be the experiment on which the research gets conducted.” Jim half-smirks. “Apparently Khan thinks I have the right qualities for the job. He says it’s legitimate work and pays great.”

The other people in the living room continue to stare at him.

Eventually Jim lifts a hand self-consciously to his head. “What?” He did finger-brush his hair. Spock doesn’t like that, insists the same amount of energy would be expended with a proper hairbrush.

At last Leonard explodes. “Are you out of your mind, Jim?! You signed up to be somebody’s Frankenstein? Oh my God.”

“Wait,” Kirk interrupts before Spock joins in on Leonard’s outrage of disbelief, which by the angle of the man’s eyebrows he is going to do. “What’s the problem here? We’ll all be working for the same company. _For Khan._ ” To Spock, “You decided to take him on as a client.” It isn’t really a question because Jim had seen how pleased T’Pau looked yesterday.

“I… did not feel I could reject the opportunity.”

Jim nods, heart dropping at this news despite that he had guessed correctly.

“So Spock took the job. So I might work for Khan some day. So what?” Bones argues. “Are you saying you think if you work at Eugenics it will keep us together?”

McCoy doesn’t get it.

Jim folds his arms. “Is that a terrible thing to want, Bones? Because the way our relationship is now, if one of us doesn’t make _some_ effort, we’ll be estranged by the end of the year. Probably living in three different cities.”

Leonard is taken aback. Spock grows too still.

No, Jim thinks with a pang of sadness, neither of them had been paying attention. Is it because their future together isn’t as important as their individual futures?

Gaila, clearly uncomfortable at this turn of conversation, rises from the couch. “I should go.” She thanks Spock for the tea as she sets her barely touched teacup on the table.

“Jim,” Leonard begins, glancing at Spock.

Jim’s mouth stretches in a smile even though he doesn’t feel happy. “I’ll walk Gaila out.” It isn’t an offer.

Outside at his ex’s car, Gaila bites her lip and reaches up to put a hand to the side of his face. “How bad is it?” she asks softly.

Jim removes her hand and opens the driver’s side door. Once the woman is settled inside the car, he leans his weight against his arm propped on the door and admits heavily, “Bad. I did want to blame Khan for everything but… honestly? Maybe Bones, Spock, and I were meant to fail from the beginning.”

“Oh, Jim,” she says with genuine sympathy. “Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

“Or they’re worse,” he counters grimly. “Bye, Gaila. Sorry about your date.” He shuts her car door with a firm hand and turns back to the apartment. Once Gaila is out of sight, he decides to take a long walk instead.

~~~

His head is down and his feet are wandering an aimless path along the city sidewalk. Jim thinks of nothing since there is nothing pleasant to think of. Because he is so tuned out to his surroundings, it isn’t until somebody steps directly in his path that he realizes he is not alone.

“Kirk.”

Jim is almost literally face-to-face with Frank Rand. He jerks back on instinct and removes his hands from his pockets.

His mind is no longer blank. “Frank,” Jim acknowledges flatly. He hesitates then tries to move cautiously past the man.

Rand, however, does not approve of this idea. “When somebody speaks to you, you ought to answer back, boy.”

“I’m not a kid,” he answers coldly, “and you aren’t someone I want to speak to.”

“Maybe it woulda been better if I had minded my own business,” begins Rand, and Kirk is only half-listening.

Better to get this meet-and-greet over. “Do you want something, Frank, besides to irritate me?”

The man tugs up the collar of his hunter’s jacket and hunches into the thick material, his face sallow against its dark print. Jim cannot help but notice the unkempt state of Rand’s clothes and the wild growth of the man’s beard. Rand hasn’t looked well since the fiasco with Trelane.

“I saw you at the bar off 52,” he comments suddenly. “Does your wife know you’re wasting your savings to become a permanent drunk?”

Rand’s eyes cloud over with something close to hate. “Ain’t nobody’s damned business how I spend my days or my money.” He spits to the side like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “But you’re right about me being at that bar. Fact is, Kirk, I was there last night when you had your date with that fancy man.”

A muscle in Jim’s jaw ticks as he says roughly, “It wasn’t a date. I’d rather saw off my own arm.”

Frank eyes him with a new interest. “Then I guess we agree the foreigner’s trouble. At least, for you anyways.” He steps in close to Jim and looks him over. “You must have a hell of a hangover.”

Does everyone in this fucking town know about what he did except _him?_

“No,” Jim says. “Guess I didn’t drink as much as you think I did.”

“You didn’t drink much of nothing,” Frank states with chilling certainty.

“What?”

Frank’s eyes cut to the side and he seems to be eyeballing the neighborhood. For who though, Jim can’t fathom.

“I can spot a criminal easily enough,” Rand is saying, “and that Khan fellow stinks like one.”

At least Jim isn’t the only person who finds Khan’s cologne offensive.

Rand continues. “So I’ve been keeping a close watch on him.” Jim doesn’t imagine Rand has much else to do but stalk people now that he is unemployed—and un-hirable. “Did you know he paid a visit to the bar a couple of hours before you two met there?”

Jim stills. “Why would Khan do that?” he asks too softly.

“Seems he had some deal to make with the bartender—or rather, pay him off to turn a blind eye.”

Jim steps back, unable to deal with the words coming out of Rand’s mouth. “What do you get by making this shit up, Rand? A chance to watch me screw over my happy ending?”

“Fuck you, Kirk. I’m only telling you this because you’ve got a real case against him!”

“Why?” Jim insists, voice low and intense.

“’Cause what he did was illegal, no two ways about it. ‘N I swear to God I won’t let my girl work for a man who goes around slipping rufies into people’s drinks when their backs are turned.”

Jim’s mouth goes dry. Khan… drugged him? “Why would he do that, Frank? Why would he do that, and then hand me straight over to Bones?”

Rand is silent for a long minute. “He didn’t…? Well, guess there’s a silver lining to every fucking cloud, Kirk. Count yourself lucky. I’ve seen the bad shit that can happen to a person; rape’s one of the worst.”

Jim shivers, punches down a rise of bile in his throat. “I’d know if I was a rape victim.”

“Would you?” Rand asks bluntly.

Don’t throw up. He quells his urge to panic, and decides to ignore the buttons Frank is pushing. “I guess my well-being doesn’t matter much to you one way or the other. You obviously didn’t stop Khan’s nefarious plan.” He says this with as much of his usual cockiness as he can.

Frank almost sneers and folds his arms. “I’m not an officer of the law anymore.”

“So you aren’t a decent citizen either?”

“Look, I came by, okay! I told you about what he did. What more do you expect from me?”

“Nothing,” Jim assures him. His shoulder has a persistent itch so he rubs at it, thinking he would rather have the awkward company of his two boyfriends right now than Frank Rand’s. This just goes to show that running away always backfires.

He says in a sarcastic but clipped tone, “You checked on me, I’m not dead, woo, congratulations. Go home and sleep like a baby.”

That hate is back in Frank’s eyes. “You think you’re something, don’t you, Kirk? All you queers do. I saved your pathetic life once.”

“You saved yourself from a murder charge,” Kirk corrects. “I owe you nothing. Your miserable existence, Frank? That’s your fault and you know it.”

They are at a stand-off, neither willing to give ground. Jim is used to keeping him mouth shut about this particular kind of hatred, to just back away and not stoke the fire any further, but he has had his fill of Rand’s homophobia. It has led to too many dangerous and cruel situations, and not just for Jim.

There are so many things he wants to say, to rage about, and some of it bursts out of him: “I don’t get people like you. Why is who I want to be with such an issue? I feel the same thing everyone else in this town does: I love somebody and I want to make that person happy. How is what I do and what you do any different, except my somebody has a cock and balls while yours has breasts?”

“It’s unnatural,” is Frank’s stubborn growl.

Jim shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. “Love is the most natural thing in the world, Frank.” Which, really, he should be surprised the man knows what love is.

Jim decides to end this old and never-ending argument between them, knowing to continue with a backwards ass such as ex-deputy Rand is only likely to earn him a punch in the face.

“Your feelings on the matter mean nothing to me, and they won’t ever mean anything to me, Frank. So you should learn to save your breath for someone who gives a damn.” He pauses, adds, “Oh and this show of caring of yours? It leaves something to be desired. But thanks for the tip anyway.”

At least he now knows why he doesn’t have a hangover.

Frank makes a grab for his arm. Jim just looks at him, because they both know this is violating Komack’s orders to Rand to “never touch James Kirk again.”

Frank drops his hand back to this side. “What about Khan?” he asks doggedly.

“What about him?”

“Aren’t you going to stop the bastard?”

“How can I?” Jim asks with surprising bitterness. “I’m a small town nobody compared to him.”

Jim moves away and starts walking, taking Frank’s silence as agreement. But the man surprises him:

“Kirk!”

Jim pauses at the call but does not turn around.

Frank is saying, “You ain’t never been a quitter. That’s galled me on occasion, but now… Now’s the time you _can’t_ quit.”

“Or?” he mutters, but somehow Frank hears it—or at least recognizes his disbelief.

“You need to do what’s right, Kirk, and get that SOB out of Riverside. I’ve lost my standing in society to say anything against anybody but you—you’re the fucking town hero. If you don’t think you can do it, the fight’s over before it begins.”

Jim turns around, caught off-guard, but Frank is already backing away and crossing the street. Kirk huffs out a breath, slightly amazed at what sounded like a sincere plea.

Either Rand has gone off the deep end, or he truly believes Jim can do something about Khan. Most days Jim would bet on Frank’s certifiable insanity. Still, the ex-deputy’s words nag Kirk all the way back to his apartment.

~~~

Jim leans forward, twists his arm behind him, and tries in vain to scratch the skin off of his back. He had secluded himself in his room the moment he returned from his outing and, so far, no one has tried to cajole him into coming out to “discuss things.” He gives Spock another five minutes before the man attempts to do so.

But this faint itch has gone from an annoyance to almost painful throb. He grimaces, not liking his options, but leaves his bedroom for McCoy’s, pushing in without bothering to knock.

Leonard looks up, startled, from his slump over a small desk pushed against the wall of the far side of the room. Spock is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. They’ve been doing that discussion thing without him, it seems.

“Hey,” Leonard says softly.

It’s all Jim can do to keep from scrubbing his back furiously against the doorframe to ease his discomfort. “Bones, c’mere,” he says. He half-lifts up his shirt.

“Jim, I don’t think taking your shirt off— _Jesus Christ_.” Suddenly there are hands pressing tentatively along his back. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but it itches like crazy,” Jim complains. “Wasn’t this bad earlier.”

“Earlier?” A sigh. “I really have my head up my ass, don’t I, Jim? Here, hold this.” McCoy pulls the shirt all the way up and Jim grabs the back of it to hold it up. “You’ve got a serious rash. Did you eat something you are allergic to?”

“Oh yes,” he replies, annoyed, “I definitely did that. Because I love going to the hospital!”

“Leonard’s intention is not to offend you, Jim. Should I call the clinic to inform them of our arrival?”

Leonard replies, “Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks, Spock.”

Spock exits the room. Jim tries jerking away in a sudden panic but Bones’ hands catch his shoulders and hold him in place. “It’s just a rash,” Kirk insists. “We don’t need to go anywhere.”

“I say different, and I’m the doctor,” Jim is reminded. “If your body doesn’t like something, it _will_ get worse.” His shirt is tugged down gently. “Jim, let’s not fight over this.”

He makes one last attempt. “But it’s your day off.”

Leonard turns him around so that they are facing one another. “I love you, Jim,” Leonard says seriously. “For you, I won’t ever take a day off.” McCoy captures his hands. “Don’t scratch at it.”

Jim tugs the man in until they bump foreheads. “Bones,” he asks, because his heart says he has to, “are you and Spock going to leave me some day?”

“We agree we’re going to try very hard not to—if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” he says but his throat is tight and the words don’t come out easily.

“Jim,” says McCoy in a strange voice, pulling back from their embrace. “Good God, man, your hands!”

“Um,” he responds, astonished. His hands are swelling like balloons. Come to think of it, his throat might not be tight from emotion after all. Jim sways slightly on his feet.

McCoy props him up and bellows, “Spock, get his Epipen out of his nightstand!”

 _I haven’t had anything this morning but mouthwash,_ his brain is thinking dumbly.

Bones has eased him down to the floor of the bedroom and is saying furiously to his face, “Damn it, breathe, Jim! Don’t make me put a hole in your windpipe!”

Jim flails his swollen hands. “No hole, no hole!” he rattles.

Something stabs his leg and he bites off a cry. Then he can get blissful air back into his lungs, and he drags it in gratefully. “Thanks,” he pants to McCoy and Spock alike when he can manage words.

“What has caused this episode?” Spock asks over Kirk’s head to the doctor, and there is a strain in the man’s voice Jim rarely hears.

“I don't know,” McCoy says as he slides an arm under Jim to haul him up, “but let’s get him to the Derby hospital and find out.”

It dawns on Jim belatedly as he is manhandled into the backseat of Spock’s Corvette that Frank could have been telling the truth.

What, exactly, did Khan drug him with that is screwing up his body chemistry so badly?


	11. Part Eleven

Jim is not exactly sneaking away from his own personal urgent-care room where the nurses only stop by with the intention of taking several vials of his blood. No, he is attempting to find the cafeteria because he is hungry and he is being denied sustenance. Okay that's a sort of lie, really, since he has had several "visits" to the Derby hospital in the past and the cafeteria hasn't changed location in over two decades. He'll say it's the elevator's fault. It gets its floor numbers mixed up (must be an _ancient_ elevator, he jokes to himself) and that's how Jim ends up nowhere near the cafeteria and hiding in the Children's Ward playroom.

It's also not his fault this one kid looks so depressed Jim feels obliged to offer him a game of air hockey; and then two other boys need a hand in building Sauron's tower out of multicolored Legos. Or there's a cute little girl with pigtails who cajoles Jim into face-painting.

By the time somebody realizes James T. Kirk is AWOL—namely Bones who returns from chatting with a doctor about Jim's blood work, discovers an empty bed, and sounds the alarm (thereby frightening several nurses half to death by saying Jim could be dead in a stairwell and _aren't they paid to keep an eye on sick people?!_ )—Jim is ensconced in a sea of rapt faces as he mimics the Big Bad Wolf trying to huff and puff and blow the Three Little Pigs' brick house down. Of course, when the faux-Big Bad Wolf spots the angry face of his doctor boyfriend storming through the playroom doors (somebody must have snitched; maybe it was the playroom attendant who keeps trying to kick him out), he doesn't so much as huff and puff as fall over and cause the kids to shriek with glee because they think Jim's wolf version is having an unheard-of fairy tale heart-attack.

"It's the Evil Queen!" Jim cries as he points at McCoy and tosses his arms over his head, cowering with exaggerated fright.

The children turn as one, spot McCoy's thunderous expression (and his visiting doctor's badge), and the shrieking of the littlest ones intensifies. Some of them crawl up next to Jim and put their arms over their heads too. But Jim's storytelling assistant (a child of ten) remarks loudly, "He's a boy, Mr. Jim! He can't be a Queen!"

Kirk has an awesome comeback for that, he really does, but Bones cuts in with a warning " _Not a word, Jim_."

So he mock-whispers to the child, "Bonesie's a Queen in his heart, Charley. That's what counts."

Hence James Kirk is subsequently taken into custody by an eye-twitching McCoy and a surprisingly well-muscled attendant. He waves a sad goodbye to his young friends, hangs his head and shuffles his feet until a small voice protests and then another and another. Jim sneaks a shit-eating grin at his boyfriend when small hands clutch at Leonard's pants and ask the doctor not to take Jim away.

Leonard grimaces, caught between a rock and a hard place—that is, the pleading faces of sick children and his common sense. Finally, with a look of long-suffering, the doctor eases his grip on the back of Jim's shirt.

"Go on then, you big baby," he drawls at Kirk. "Ten more minutes. Then we're going back downstairs."

Jim grins. "C'mon, fifteen!" he wheedles. When that earns only a glare, he adds slyly, "Just because I'm the fairest in all the land doesn't mean you need to get your undies in a twist."

Leonard's glare deepens into a scowl as somebody at knee-height giggles.

"I said ten minutes, Jim! 'Cause that's how long it'll take me to get back to the ER, find Spock wondering where the hell we both disappeared to, and send him up here to deal with your stubborn a— _self!_ " corrects the man grudgingly at the attendant's sharp elbow prod. Then Leonard turns and stalks away. He pauses long enough in the doorway to threaten, "Oh and that candy bar you sent Spock to get that I wasn't supposed to know about? Trash can, Jim—TRASH CAN."

Jim bites his lip with a moment's indecision. Save the candy bar or stay with the kids? He whimpers a little but decides to stay. Besides, Bones wouldn't actually make good on that threat.

Would he?

Perhaps sensing Kirk's slight despondency, Charley tugs on his oversized friend's sleeve. "Mr. Jim, don't worry. We get plenty of candy on account of us being sick!" He skips over to a toy chest and returns with a partially eaten Milky Way, offering it to Jim shyly.

Jim ruffles the boy's hair with affection. "Naw, I'm good. So what part were we at?"

"NOT BY THE HAIR OF MY CHINNY-CHIN CHIN!" choruses several voices.

Jim clears his throat then growls, "Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down!"

~~~

Bones doesn't return a while, not until lunchtime is long past and Jim has taken the time to escort each child back to his or her room for a nap. When he does finally locate Bones (via describing him as tall, dark, and of the brooding anger variety to several medical personnel), the doctor is in the cafeteria nursing a cup of coffee and talking with Spock. Jim shuffles sheepishly over to the pair and wedges himself into the booth on Spock's side.

One of Leonard's eyebrows goes up. "Afraid of me, Jim?" the man asks mildly.

His reply is too bright. "Of course not!" Leaning over to Spock, he whispers, "You can take him, right?"

Leonard's hand whips out and whacks Jim with a plastic fork. "Idiot!"

Jim hisses, "Did you see that! He attacked me!"

Spock admonishes McCoy, "Violence is not the answer."

With a mischievous look, Jim kicks at Bones' shin under the table. The man yelps.

"Jim, enough," Spock in turn admonishes Kirk.

Leonard casually moves his coffee cup out of Jim's reach and remarks, "You may think you're the mature one here, Spock, but just you wait. One day you'll be slapping 'n kicking 'n biting with the best of us."

"It is my sincerest hope, Leonard, I never lose my presence of mind to act in such a childish manner."

Leonard looks to Jim, who understands perfectly what McCoy isn't saying. Jim nods slightly.

_Challenged accepted._

Spock is going down. The poor man just doesn't know it yet.

"Do you want some water?" Bones asks.

Jim shakes his head. "I had some grape juice already."

"I can tell," replies the doctor dryly.

Jim scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand. Damn, where's a mirror when he needs one? He then sticks out his tongue and tries to get a good look at it.

Leonard bursts out laughing. "Oh God, your face, Jim! Didn't your mama ever tell you if you cross your eyes they'll get stuck that way?"

He stops the somewhat dizzying facial contortion. "Mom's told me a lot of stuff over the years. Mainly that it's possible I was a circus baby she adopted."

Leonard laughs once more and agrees, "I'd believe that." He stands up, saying not to Kirk but to Spock, "Make sure he stays put."

Spock nods solemnly.

Jim props his elbows on the table and leans on them. He gives Spock his best expectant look.

Spock returns a measuring look. "I do not read minds, Jim."

Pointing at his own sad face, Jim says, "Can you at least read this?"

Spock's eyes track over to McCoy, who is standing in one of the cafeteria lines with his back to them. He slips a hand inside his wool coat, and produces a Hershey's bar for Jim. "Leonard confiscated two," explains the lawyer, "but I had the foresight to buy in bulk."

Jim places one hand over Spock's and the other works its way between Spock's collar and his neck. He pulls the man in close and murmurs, "I'm going to kiss you for a job well done, okay?"

Spock seems to have no objection to this. The man's thumb strokes the curve of Jim's cheekbone as their mouths touch lightly. They pull apart before McCoy returns, Jim re-hiding the chocolate bar in the inside pocket of Spock's coat as a treat to savor later.

Leonard slides a cafeteria tray under Jim's nose. "Eat," orders the doctor.

Jim's stomach rumbles in happy agreement as he takes in the sight of a huge mound of mashed potatoes. "Bones, jeez, I love you!" He grabs a fork and makes a crater in the mound's center in which to pour gravy.

"Yeah, well," Leonard says as he reseats himself, "I know you must be starving."

He licks his fork. "I figured you're the one who told that mean woman not to feed me."

"Her name is Gilda, Jim, and she isn't mean, otherwise she couldn't work successfully around kids. You're just extra trying on nice people."

"Mmph," Jim disagrees around a mouthful. He remembers her hard stare when he'd asked politely for a snack like the other children. He had gotten a pathetic little juice box instead.

Leonard waits until Jim is scraping his plate clean to say, "I called Winona."

Jim loses his grip on his fork and it clatters on the plate. He gapes at the man.

"She's your mother," says the doctor mildly in response to Jim's unspoken disbelief. "And I seem to remember promising to keep her informed of any accidents you have."

"I didn't have an accident," Jim mutters at his abandoned eating utensil. Bones owes him another plate of mashed potatoes for this bombshell. He sighs. "How long do I have?"

Leonard looks at Spock. Spock estimates, "Ten minutes—if one assumes she adheres to the speed limit."

Jim half-falls out of the booth in his scramble. "You tell me now! Holy shit, which way is the ER?!" He whirls on the surprised men and demands, "How sick do I look?"

"As ill as you are currently behaving" and "Not very, considering your God-awful appearance when we got here" he is told by Spock and McCoy, respectively.

He hurries from the cafeteria, not checking to see if they are following but talking to them nonetheless. "We need blankets—lots of blankets. And a thermometer. Maybe an ice pack? Fuck, I don't know, Mom expects a lot."

"Jim! Hey, hold the damn elevator!"

He is tapping his foot impatiently as McCoy and Spock hustle into the elevator before the doors close.

Spock is fairly composed; Bones is panting. "Shit, kid, how do you move that fast?"

"There's no time, Bones," Kirk says grimly. "You called Mom. What do you think will happen if I'm not laid up in bed surrounded by ten doctors and nurses? Or if I'm not in the ER at all?"

Spock surreptitiously re-pokes the button for the ground floor. Sadly, the elevator goes no faster.

When the doors do finally open, Leonard grabs Jim's wrist and pulls him towards the ER at a near-run. They only pause when McCoy spies an empty gurney being wheeled down the hallway. The doctor flashes his badge at a gaping medical intern as he jerks it away with "Sorry, we need this! It's an emergency!" Jim climbs onto it and attempts to look like he's dying.

He is dumped into his hospital bed and hidden under three blankets just in time for Winona Kirk's voice to be heard at the nearby nurse's station. This time when he cowers, he isn't faking his wide-eyed fear.

~~~

"What's wrong with my son?" Winona asks of the attending ER doctor as she clutches one of Jim's hands.

The young man (Dr. Campbell something-or-other, Jim thinks) replies, "We are still testing his blood work in the lab for anomalies. At this point, it's hard to say what caused his allergic reaction."

Winona stares at Dr. Campbell for a long minute. Then she turns to McCoy. "What's wrong with my son?" she repeats.

Jim is very glad he is the sick person. His mother doesn't beat up sick people. Usually.

"We don't know yet, Winona," Leonard tells her. "But I promise you I'll find out."

She seems satisfied with this answer. "I just hope it isn't a new allergy. He has so many." Jim's hand is patted and tucked back under a blanket.

Jim sinks into his bed and contemplates pulling the covers over his head. Now wouldn't be the best time to mention he thinks he was drugged.

The Campbell guy is saying, "I doubt this is a new allergy, Mrs. Kirk. It's likely once we identify the compounds of the—"

"Hey! Look at that!" bellows Kirk, sitting up and flinging his bed clothes every which way.

Everybody in the room turns and stares at the closed door.

"I, uh, I mean," he hedges, "look at that—the door's closed. Is it stuffy in here to you? I think it's stuffy. Could somebody open the door?"

As Spock obligingly opens the door, Jim is calculating his plan of action for a quick escape: tangle Bones up in the blankets, do a fly-tackle into the idiot Campbell, thereby knocking the man into Spock, and... He eyes his mother but he is at a loss on how to overcome the obstacle that is Winona Kirk.

Crap.

It is easier, then, to inform the babbling ER physician, "I know you are busy, man. We'll be here when you have something concrete to tell us." He smiles with a benign air.

Dr. Campbell looks at him strangely, undoubtedly having never before been told by a patient to stop talking and go away.

Maybe Jim had made a mistake by admitting there might be drugs in his system, if taken involuntarily. (The ER doctor had given him a skeptical look at that last part.) But this patient-doctor confidentiality thing ought to ensure that conversation remains _private_. And hadn't he specifically said "Let's keep this between us for now, doc."

Of course the doctor had argued, "Dr. McCoy states he is your physician of record. If the police are brought in, all medical parties of the victim will automatically be informed of the circumstances."

"He's also my boyfriend."

The man had simply looked at him for a long moment, then handed him a cup to pee in. "When— _if_ we determine the presence of something unusual in your system, Mr. Kirk, we can discuss how you would like to proceed. I will leave you the option of informing your significant others until that time."

He had thought that was a tacit agreement to keep mum on the subject. But Dr. Campbell obviously has a short memory, or thinks Jim did the smart thing and told to his companions there is a possibility of a criminal case to be reported.

Jim cannot figure out how to tell them.

That isn't quite true.

He cannot figure out how they are going to take the news. Will they think he's making it up to be spiteful? To be honest, Jim isn't certain if it is a real story himself. He knows how he feels, how his body feels, yes, and he thinks Rand wouldn't seek him out just to feed him a bold-faced lie. But accusing Khan?

It could backfire badly; it really could.

On the other hand, if the hospital finds no evidence to support his theory, Jim doesn't know how he is going to cope. It would mean even if Khan did drug him, nothing can done about it. Jim hates that thought, utterly hates it. He will have to continue on his mission to infiltrate Eugenics while knowing what an utter bastard Khan really is but pretending otherwise.

"Jimmy?" asks his mother, "what's the matter?"

He quits staring at the wall and smiles at her then resumes his prone position. "I'm just sick of being here, Mom."

Winona kisses his forehead. "I know, baby. Let's hope you can go home soon."

"Yeah," he agrees blankly, "hope on, hope ever."

In the end, the preliminary toxicology report comes back negative and since his breathing is recovered and the rash and swelling under control, Jim is discharged with a warning to watch what he eats. His mother is relieved. Jim is not.

Bones puts an arm around his shoulders as they walk to the parking garage. "I'll have 'em send a copy of the paperwork to the clinic. Don't worry, Jim, I will look it over. Asshats probably couldn't find a red-blood cell count with a map."

Jim is about to reply when a man passes by their group. Jim stops to stare after him, struck by the man's seemingly familiar face. But he cannot quite place it.

Winona says, "Jimmy?"

He shrugs off the alert at the back of his neck. "Sorry. I thought I saw somebody I knew."

"I hope not," she replies. "The hospital isn't the best place to greet friends."

~~~

He wakes up at a pre-dawn hour, his memory finally supplying an answer.

Khan's driver—the man from the parking lot is Khan's driver.

Sleep eludes Jim for the rest of the night.

A day later, Bones complains during a shared lunch at Spock's that the hospital administration somehow misplaced Jim's records from Tuesday's visit. "I checked in because Christine said she hadn't seen them come through. The whole kit-and-caboodle, Jim, gone. Goddamn idiots! Only good thing to come out of their incompetence is you can't be billed for a non-existent trip to the ER."

What are the odds of that happening? Jim thinks. An uneasy feeling crawls along his spine that he doesn't like at all.

~~~

"Are you sure, Jan?" Jim inches the phone back up to his ear from where it had slipped. Jose pokes his head into the office and gives his employee a long-suffering look. Jim signals _two more minutes, I swear!_

She sounds bemused. "I haven't seen him since last week. Jim, why are you looking for my dad anyway? He was so... awful to you."

Jim has quick and nasty debate with himself. "Look, I don't want to freak you out but I think he could be in trouble." Jim is almost certain of it since he cannot locate Frank at any of the man's usual hang-outs. Kirk even braved Cupcake's, though he went there on the pretense of looking for a lost pair of sunglasses. Cupcake hadn't been thrilled to see him, had shooed Jim out with "If you left 'em, they probably belong to a biker chick by now. I don't keep a lost and found, Kirk."

Maybe Rand used common sense and has gone to ground.

Somehow, he doubts so.

After a short silence, Janice asks in a smaller voice, "What are you talking about? Jim?"

"I don't know, Jan. I saw him a couple of days ago and he mentioned he might have seen something he shouldn't have. I wanted to check in, that's all."

"Seen something where?" she wants to know. "What's he done?" Then, "Please don't do this to me, Jim. It was hard enough accepting that he could—" Her voice wobbles, breaks, and she whispers to someone off-line, "Kevin, can you—?"

"Hey, Jim," comes Riley's voice over the phone. "What's going on?"

Jim feels terrible. "Tell her not to cry, man. I—“ What can he say now that he's made a mess of things? "Just call me if you hear from Frank, okay? There's nothing worry about."

Kevin agrees, confused, and Jim hangs up.

Jose says, "We done yet, Jim?"

"One more call," he says as he pulls out a piece of paper and dials the phone number on it.

A man picks up; the line is noisy. "Pike speaking."

"It's Jim Kirk."

"Jim. Can you hold on?" The noise in the background dies down. "I'm out at a base, sorry. Did he take the bait? Where are we? "

"In a nutshell? Shit city," he summarizes.

Pike switches to formal command tone. "Tell me."

"I'm in a public place, sir."

"Say what you can."

"I think he slipped me something and whatever it was didn't agree with me so I spent a couple of hours in the ER. But the toxicology report turned up nada. Then disappeared altogether."

"Understood. What else?"

No sentimental clap-trap. Jim is grateful. He continues, "Somebody might be a witness but I cannot find him."

The silence stretches for so long that Jim is afraid Pike has hung up. "Chris?"

"Give me a name, Jim."

He almost whispers, back turned to Jose, "Frank Rand. Ex-cop, discharged a few months ago. He should be easy to find on the books."

"If this is the Rand you tangled with before, I already know plenty about him. Let me see what I can do. And Jim? Listen carefully. If Khan found out about Rand, the man's already dead—which means you're next. The game is only fun until Singh’s opponent figures him out, and he _never_ chances losing, not with a billion-dollar empire. Drop what you're doing and go to Bella's."

Fuck.

Jim agrees readily enough. Immediately after he hangs up the telephone, he has to wipe his sweaty palms on his overalls. Should he let Bones and Spock know where he is going? Would that jeopardize them?

 _Fuck._ He thinks he knows Pike well enough to know the man would not joke around about any of this. How did things suddenly become so complicated?

"Jim!" snaps his boss, exasperated.

Jim plants a hand to steady himself as he turns around. But his fake smile turns sickly when Jose tosses him a clipboard and Jim sees the name on it.

"Mr. Singh says there is knocking in the motor but I'll be damned if I can locate it."

The ring of the bell announces someone stepping into the front office. "Perhaps if Mr. Kirk drove the vehicle around the block and back, he would better be able to delineate the issue." Khan smiles, his dark shades reflecting the overhead light and concealing the gleam of his eyes.

Jose shrugs and collects the clipboard from Jim, handing him car keys in its place. "You know the drill, Jim," his boss reminds him. "If it breaks down, give me a call 'n I'll come get you."

But Jim isn't paying any attention to Jose. He is watching Khan, who in turn is watching him.

"Well, Mr. Kirk?" questions the man, voice silky. "Shall we?"


	12. Part Twelve

Kirk slowly places the car keys on the counter between him and Khan. “Hold that thought, Mr. Singh.” He thumbs in the direction of the garage. “Best to take a leak before any field trips.”

Khan nods tacitly, as if he is granting permission for Jim’s bathroom break, and slips his hands into his trouser pockets. “I will wait.”

Jim hisses urgently at Jose as he skirts around the man, “Follow me!”

Jose—thank everything that’s holy, Jim thinks—does not question him and simply follows. As soon as they are out of sight of any windows, Jim pulls Jose aside and puts every ounce of fear into his voice can muster.

“If I go with that guy, Jose, you’ll never see me again, except maybe as a body to identify.”

Jose is taken aback. “Jim…”

“Listen to me,” Jim insists. “I need you to call the police. Hell, call Komack! We can’t be alone with Khan. He’s dangerous!”

Jose puts a hand on his shoulder. “Jim, you need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Kirk whispers furiously. “As calm as I can be when I’m about to be axe-murdered!”

“ _Chico_ —hey! Look me in the eyes! Nobody’s murdering anybody in my garage, okay?” Jose gestures at his office. “I’ll get the cops out here. You just—sit tight, yeah?”

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he sounds like a lunatic but he can _feel_ Khan’s eyes on him, even through a thick plaster wall. Shit, he wouldn’t be this freaked out if he hadn’t just gotten hung up with Pike’s warning still ringing in his ears.

Then again, he might have taken that joyride with Khan and never known what was in store for him.

When Jose, expression strange, starts back toward the office, Jim grabs the sleeve of the man’s shirt. “Are you crazy?! Don’t go in there!”

Jose spreads his arms in a show of _what else can I do?_ “Phone’s in the office.”

Jim digs in his back pocket and offers the man his billfold. “Use the payphone across the street or go next door to Tommy’s. Just don’t let Khan know we’re on to him.”

Jose gently folds Jim’s fingers back around the billfold. “Keep your money. I got some spare change.” He hesitates for a moment. “Jim, if you’re that… afraid of Mr. Singh, then why don’t you go? Yeah,” he says more firmly, “I think that’d be best. He ain’t going to mess with an old man like me.”

Jim bites at his lip. Would Khan hurt Jose?

Trelane would have, in a heartbeat.

He says, “We’ll leave together.”

But Jose vetoes that idea. “I’m not leaving the shop wide open. I can’t—you know that.”

Something rattles in the office—the old postmark swivel display. Khan is waiting patiently, as promised. More like a viper in the grass, Jim thinks.

Ants could be crawling over his skin and the feeling wouldn’t be any different than what is riding him hard right now.

“I’ll call Komack, and then I’ll come back,” he decides, unwilling to simply abandon Jose. “Can you stall for time?”

“I guess,” the man says slowly. “I did want to take another look at that engine.”

Jim nods and looks toward the side door of the garage but hesitates. Jose places a hand on his arm, warm against the cold goosebumps along his skin.

Jim does as promised, using the number which he memorized a while back (during the Trelane ordeal) that he knows will get him directly to the town sheriff. Afterwards, he trails back into the garage and shoves a wrench into his overalls, just in case.

Jose, wiping his hands on a rag, greets him. “Khan’s still here.”

Jim knows that. “Komack is coming.”

“Okay,” says the garage owner. Then, “Jim, about that motor. I guess it would make sense he is lying about the noise—if he’s after you, I mean.”

Jim resists the fierce need to hug the life out of Jose. “That’s what I think, too.”

Jose puts his rag aside. “I guess we’ll wait on the law, then.”

Jim hasn’t heard more cheering words in his life.

~~~

It isn't that Sheriff Komack looks unhappy at being called in; the fact is Komack always looks grim. Jim tries not to let the man's expression distract him from telling his story.

Komack makes notes as Jim talks and asks simple questions of dates and times and places. Only when Jim gets to the part about Frank Rand does the sheriff have something to say.

"You shouldn't have met him alone."

"He met _me_."

"And what did I tell you to do if that ever happened?"

Jim rakes a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. That's a fuck-up on my part."

"Yeah, it is. Do you know what happens when a restraining order is violated by the victim, Jim? It becomes useless. We can't believe a word you say thereafter about how dangerous the perp is because you _willingly_ allow yourself to be near him." Komack caps and pockets his pen then closes his notebook. "It looks even worse that you're trying find the guy."

"He's an asshole, Sheriff, but he's not somebody I want dead. If I saw he was going to get hit by car, I'd probably try to save him. Am I supposed to think differently?"

"No," replies Komack. "The fact that you don't is why you're a better man than Rand. But I hate to tell you this, kid... Frank's just fine."

Jim steps back. "What?"

"He walked into the station about an hour before your call came in to file some paperwork. I left him there, talking to one of our people."

The world takes a dizzying turn. Jim sags onto Jose's desk. Komack had offered to let Kirk tell his story in private, so they had chosen Jose's office in the back of the garage. Jim cannot see Khan, nor tell what is happening to Khan, but perhaps that is Komack's intention.

Jim rubs a hand over his mouth then asks slowly, "How'd he look?"

Komack's mouth turns down at the corners slightly. "Happy. I heard he landed work as a security guard. Since he will be carrying a weapon, he is required to let us know."

For Frank, any job would be like stumbling over a pot of gold.

Jim still can hardly grasp the idea: Frank isn't dead. Frank is _happy_. What the hell is going on?

"This is better than I thought," Jim says, attempting to look at the positive side of things. "Frank can confirm what I just told you. I mean, he's the one who told _me_."

"And therein lies the problem," comes the grim reply.

Jim goes cold. "What do you mean?"

"Your story makes no sense. Why would Frank Rand tell you something like that about the guy who is employing him?"

Jim stares at the sheriff for a long few seconds, uncomprehending. When the magnitude of what Komack just said hits him—not unlike a freight train at full speed—he leaps away from Jose's desk and jerks open the office door.

"Kirk!" shouts Komack at his back.

But Jim doesn't listen and slips away from Komack before the man can grab his arm.

"You fucking bastard!" he shouts, barreling into the small waiting area of Jose's Auto Shop. "You fucking bought him off?!"

Khan is lounging with his legs crossed and his trademark pleasant half-smile. Jim, it seems, is rudely interrupting a friendly chat between Khan and a junior deputy. The deputy's stupid grin turns anxious the moment he spies Jim coming.

Khan lifts a stalling hand to the deputy. "Please, it's all right. Mr. Kirk and I are civilized men." Now he turns to Jim. "Who am I to have 'bought off', Mr. Kirk?"

"Rand," snaps Jim. "You knew that he _knew_ what you had done to me and you—"

Didn't kill him. You just settled matters with the promise of work and plenty of money.

"Ah, Mr. Frank Rand," says Khan mildly. He looks to Sheriff Komack, who is now shadowing Jim. "There seems to be a misunderstanding on Mr. Kirk's part, I fear. May I explain my association with Mr. Rand?"

Komack gives a short nod.

"The man has been in my employ for some weeks. We met in a bar—the same bar which I was telling Deputy Harris here where I had last encountered Mr. Kirk on a matter of business." He says more seriously, sincerely, "I believe in second chances, gentlemen. Truthfully, had not someone seen fit to give me a second chance to better myself, I might not be the successful man that I am today. I decided to take the risk that Mr. Rand might be worthy of redemption. We discussed possibilities and I chose what I thought would be a suitable profession for him within my corporation." He gives them a sharp, knowing grin. "But one must always carefully inspect the merchandise for flaws before deciding upon purchase, yes? Thus I allowed him a two-week trial run before he was given the full privileges of Security."

Khan is the perfect picture of a benevolent benefactor. "I am pleased to say Mr. Rand has proved himself capable--which I had little doubt of, given his many years in law enforcement. I look forward to working with him."

Jim is stunned. Khan and Frank. Frank and Khan. The two names turn round and round in his head, mocking him. If Frank has been working with Khan the entire time...

"You set me up," he says thickly. "This whole time—" He can't finish.

Frank hadn't been lying to Jim, except about the part where he thought Khan needed to be stopped. Khan was a criminal, no doubt, but then so was Frank Rand. Jim had forgotten that.

The clean-shaven, polished executive sighs. "I must admit I do not understand what is happening. Have I acted against the law?" he inquires politely, looking first to Jose (who is leaning in the doorway between the office and garage and appears uncomfortable) and then back to the sheriff.

Komack informs Khan, "You have been accused of a crime, Mr. Singh. However," he doesn't once look at Jim, "there is no reason to detain you further. You will be contacted for an interview at the station as our investigation gets underway."

Of course they can't cart him off to jail on the word of Jim Kirk, who seems to have no evidence whatsoever. Jim fights against the urge to demand otherwise, knowing how he behaves now is under as close scrutiny as how Khan behaves.

And Khan seems to be doing a better job at acting innocent.

"I see," Khan replies shortly. He uncrosses his legs and rises from his chair. To Jose, "My apologies. Had I known I would distress your employee—" He waves his own words away. "Forgive me. It is pointless to talk of regret. I hope this does not affect our arrangement." To Jim, "I am afraid, given these circumstances, I must rescind my offer of employment, Mr. Kirk."

"Don't worry, I'm not going cry over it, Khan," Jim almost snaps at Khan's pretense of caring.

"I doubt you will," says the man. "Please assure Mr. Spock the offer has been nullified." Khan brushes away an imaginary piece of lint on his pants, remarking in an amused tone, "He seemed rather adamant you were not qualified for the work."

So this is why Spock and Bones never mentioned the "atrocity that was Jim's idea of a good job" again. They went around him and straight to the source. Jim doesn't know whether to be pleased or pissed.

Khan, taking the silence of the room as a conclusion to events, inclines his head toward the sheriff and the deputy. "Am I free to go?"

"Yes. Just don't leave town." Komack says the words stiffly, as though it goes against his better judgment to let Khan go. Jim remembers then that Sheriff Komack is an associate of Lady Q. Has she spoken with him? How much does the man know about Khan?

Khan smiles. "I could not if I wished to, sir. I have a large financial stake in your Riverside."

Komack says nothing. Jim is silent too, clenching his fists as Khan takes the time to smooth out the wrinkles in a grotesquely expensive suit jacket then slip it on along with his shades. The man walks to the door but stops, twisting at the waist to say to Jim, "You assume I am your enemy, Kirk, but I ask instead: can we not try to be cordial with one another?"

Komack wants to know, voice sharp, "Why would you ask to be friends with a man who wants to charge you with intent to murder?"

Khan's eyes are hidden again but Jim hears the satisfaction in his voice. "He is dear to my fiancée. She would be most devastated if he refused to attend our wedding. I offer on her behalf."

Then Khan is gone.

~~~

Time seems strangely slow now, whereas before it had been a pinwheel of motion. Jim barely acknowledges the hands gripping his shoulders. He is shaken gently.

"Jim!"

He finally focuses on his boss's voice, even more slowly on Jose himself. Jose is practically propping him up. "Jim, are you okay?"

"No," he answers faintly. He doesn't care who is watching. He leans into Jose—familiar, caring, trustworthy Jose—and drops his forehead against the man's shoulder. Jose squeezes the back of his neck.

"Everything's all right, _chico_. You need me to call somebody for you? Bones?"

Leonard's nickname sounds so funny coming from Jose but Jim hasn't the heart to laugh. He pulls away, realizing that Jose is sort of hugging him and they've never hugged before. But his friend doesn't appear to be put-upon.

Jim apologizes.

Jose shrugs. "No apologies." He is serious-faced as he observes Jim. "You have to tell me what's going on."

Jim swallows and looks around, only to realize that he and Jose are alone. There is a flash of Komack's uniform through the windows of the office. The man is outside talking to his deputy. Jim shoves away his embarrassment.

"Jim," prompts his boss.

"Jose, man, I will tell you but at this point? I'm not sure you'd believe me."

"You're Jim Kirk," counters Jose. " _My_ best mechanic, my friend. I'm predisposed to believing you. Just give me a good reason to shit on Khan's offer."

Jim cracks a smile. "That's gross, Jose, but I like it."

Jose steps back and cracks his neck, grimacing. "In my old neighborhood in Cincinnati, a lot worse would happen."

If only they could send Khan there.

The deputy opens the door and sticks his head in. "Sheriff wants to know if you're coming to the station. To give your statement and all."

Jose answers for Jim. "We're be right behind you. I gotta close down first."

"You don't need to go," Jim protests.

"Oh, I do," insists Jose as he goes over to the door and flips the sign to _Closed_. "'N on the way there, you'll tell me everything."

Jim finds, for once, that he doesn't want to disagree. Maybe talking to Jose will give him courage to tell Bones and Spock.

But it's Jose, as they cruise to a stop in the man's truck at a red light, who gives Jim all the courage he needs when Jim mentions he hasn't said anything to his boyfriends: "You know they're going to go _loco_ , right?"

"They are?"

"Yeah. 'Cause they're invested in _you_ , not Khan."

"Oh." He hadn't thought of it that way. From his perspective, Khan _was_ their future—to money, prestige, Joanna, and everything Khan could give that Jim could not.

He doesn't realized he has voiced those thoughts out loud until Jose reaches over and smacks the back of his head.

The man says something like, "I guess certified geniuses can still be dumbasses."

"I'm not a dumbass!"

"You are," returns the man mildly. "You left out the most important thing that makes people happy."

Jim groans and thumps his head against the seat. "Don't say love."

Jose flicks on his left turn signal. "Ah, love—it can make or break a man. It's definitely something Khan can't provide." He pulls into a parking spot outside of the Sheriff's Department. "Get out."

Jim opens the door and puts one foot on the ground. "I thought you were coming in."

"I will. First, I gotta get your lawyer."

Jim blinks. "But Mudd's a crappy lawyer." Kirk jumps out of the trunk to avoid another swat to the head.

"I meant your Spock!" Jose mutters something low and undoubtedly uncomplimentary about Jim under his breath.

"Spock works for Khan," Jim argues.

"You let him decide that."

The truck revvs and reverses, leaving Jim alone in front of the building. Jim sighs, turns around, and heads to the door. This is one of his least favorite places to be, running a close second to his dislike of hospitals.

Someone is coming out as he is about to go inside. It's Frank.

Rand's eyes are almost maliciously amused as he stares at Kirk. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Jim is close to punching the man. Very close.

No doubt sensing Jim's animosity, Frank smirks. He pulls back his jacket and says pointedly, "Careful now. I wouldn't want to have to shoot you, Kirk."

Jim says coldly, "I hope it was worth it, Frank."

"It?"

"Selling your soul to a shitbag like Khan."

Jim walks away, suddenly determined to see this hell to its end.

_...you're the fucking town hero. If you don't think you can do it, the fight's over before it begins._

Frank had told him that while lying through his teeth. Now Jim's going to make him and Khan Noonien Singh eat those words by proving that he _can_ do it. Jim Kirk can fight Khan—and he will.

~~~

_Three weeks later…_

The Enterprise Diner is quietest after dinner hours. Leonard makes room for Winona on his side of the booth. She unfolds a letter and slides in across the table to Spock.

Jim reads it over the lawyer’s shoulder and snarls only halfway through. “That asshole doesn’t know when to quit!”

“What is it?” McCoy asks.

“Eugenics Corporation has raised its buying offer to half a million.” Spock returns the letter to Winona, who hands it to McCoy.

“Khan can offer me ten million and I won’t take it,” Winona announces stubbornly.

Spock folds his hands. “It is unlikely he will continue to increase his bid, Winona,” the lawyer says gravely. “At some juncture he will sue.”

“What the hell can he sue for?” Leonard scowls at the letter.

“Damages. A corporation’s rights are an individual’s rights. Winona’s refusal to sell out will eventually bring the Riverside project to a standstill, thereby jeopardizing Eugenics’ investments. Many points will be argued; in particular that the value of the medical facility to the community far exceeds the value of the Enterprise.” He adds uneasily, “The situation could become… dangerous.”

Winona looks around her diner. When she returns her gaze to the three men, there is a fire in her eyes. “Let them come,” she says. “They can threaten and riot and try everything on God’s earth to change my mind but they won’t succeed.” She looks hard at her son. “He is messing my family and I’ll see the reaper down on his head for that.”

“Oookay,” says Bones, appearing apprehensive to be sitting next to an angry Winona Kirk.

Sulu rings the kitchen bell and she rises from the booth and glides away.

McCoy leans forward in his seat. “If Khan isn’t scared, he should be. Your mama’d frighten the Devil.”

“Which is why she’s in charge of the rally on Friday. If a speech doesn’t convince people, her shotgun will.”

Leonard crosses himself, and Jim laughs. His slice of banana pie is mostly gone, having been mauled by his greediness, but there is one forkful of custard left. Jim offers it to Spock. Bones has a germs phobia about sharing eating utensils but Spock does not.

Five minutes later, Mayor Robert Wesley scurries into the diner, shutting the door against the downpour of rain outside. He slaps his soaked brown hat against a thigh and looks around. Jim waves him over.

“Am I late?” he asks, clothes dripping.

Jim decides to go easy on him. “Mom’s been so busy I think she forgot.”

The man visibly deflates.

Leonard kicks at Jim under the table. “What Jim means to say is you’re right in time to give her a break from a hard day. She’ll be glad to relax and see a movie.”

“But don’t keep her out too late,” Jim adds, his friendly look turning slightly wolfish.

Bob fumbles with the buttons of his raincoat, blushing. Winona yells through the kitchen window, “Oh, Bob! Hang on just a sec—“ She turns away, saying sharply, " _Sulu, what is that? We agreed NO MEATLOAF!_ ”

Wesley clears his throat, as do Jim and Leonard, to ease away a laugh. Then his expression grows more serious and he says, “Sorry to hear about the case, Jim.”

Jim leans back and tries to look like he isn’t still smarting over it. “What can we do? There wasn’t any evidence.”

Leonard says darkly, “Convenient for Khan the hospital never actually lost Jim’s records, isn’t it? A miscommunication, my ass.”

Jim had forgotten that Khan had ordered a bowl of peanuts that night at Cupcake’s bar. He doesn’t remember touching them (definitely knows he wouldn’t have because peanuts make him break out in, of all things, a rash) but Khan insinuated Jim might have add a few once he was too drunk to think straight. A neat explanation for Jim’s allergy attack—and the whole thing makes Jim sick to his stomach.

But Khan plays the game so well, with such finesse, Jim is being painted as the crazy guy with a personal vendetta. Some nights he thinks he cannot win; then he remembers why he needs to win.

The lines are being drawn: those who are with Khan, and who are against him. It’s beginning to break good feelings between people. Jim hasn’t spoken to Gaila in person since the day she offered him a friend’s comfort. He tried to see her at her shop but it’s closed up. Janice won’t look him in the eyes; Mark doesn’t seem to know who to side with; and even Uhura remarked once in passing that her aunt and uncle are too appalled to believe Khan, who saved them from working into their eighties, could do harm.

Some days are total shit.

Leonard snaps his fingers in front of Jim’s face. “What did I say about bad thoughts, Jim?”

He rolls his eyes. “Not to think them. But that’s like telling Bo Peep to give up Spock.”

Spock queries “Did you not mean the reversal?” with a light frown.

Jim smiles. “Of course I did, Spock. It’s not like _you_ are the pet.”

“Precisely.” Spock’s frown deepens as Leonard snickers into his coffee.

Jim likes his sometimes-ignorant boyfriend and his other sometimes-bitchy boyfriend. Stretching out his arms and waving them wildly in the air, he calls out, “YO, UHURA, MORE PIE!”

A dishcloth sails out of nowhere and lands on his head.

Yes, some days are shit but every day he has the support of people who love him.

“GET YOUR OWN PIE!”

Well, of those who at least _tolerate_ him.

When Uhura finally stalks to their booth, ignoring the ringing telephone by the kitchen window (Pavel grabs it on her behalf), and shoves an entire pie under his nose (almost literally, he has to lick cool-whip off of his chin), Jim grins triumphantly. She whips her ponytail over her shoulder and tells him too sweetly, “You’d better eat _all of it_ , Kirk.”

“But I’ll get fat.”

“You are fat.”

“He is a little fat,” Leonard agrees.

Jim is horrified. Spock, who does not come to his rescue by saying he is the sexiest man alive, is calmly cutting into the pie. Kirk crosses his arms (to hide his stomach) in a show of petulance. Uhura sashays away, pleased with herself.

Khan can’t have this. Khan _doesn’t_ have this, which is why they are going to find a way to defeat him.

“Jim!” Pavel says, holding the phone up for him to see. “The caller is asking for you!”

Jim pushes at Spock, which is akin to trying to budge a cow contentedly eating grass. “Who is it?”

Pavel asks, nods with “Da, da.” To Kirk, “It is a Lady of the Q, I think!” He asks into the phone, oblivious to Jim’s hasty climb over the back of the booth, “What is a Lady of the Q? Uh-huh, da—okay.” He hands the telephone to a panting Jim with the curious question, “Is she the old woman who stole your shoe? She says she has bought you a new pair.”

“ _I said_ ,” comes the small, frilly voice through the phone, “ _Captain’s boots! James, you must come get your Captain’s boots! I had them pulled straight from the feet of a Captain—dead, mind you._ ”

Jim sighs. “Why do I need Captain’s boots?”

“Silly James, you cannot steer a Captain’s ship without Captain’s boots.”

He stares at the phone in his hand. “You bought me a ship?”

“No, dear, I am _lending_ you a ship. Though perhaps you will need a fleet of them. Khan has an armada, I imagine. A single ship to fight an armada would not do.”

His head hurts already but he knows by now not to gainsay or—God forbid—hang up on her. “When do you want me to come by?”

“Now, of course!”

The diner’s bell rings imperiously as a dark-suited Q steps inside the establishment with perfect timing.

Lady Q is still talking. “And do bring your friends along. We haven’t had a little soiree in the longest time—no, not the petunias, the lilies are to be the center piece, what would my guests _think!_ —oh, James, James, this is an important question you must answer! What do Captain’s concubines wear?”

 

_-Fini_


End file.
